The Game
by DetectiveShezza
Summary: Sherlock is a loner living in a world that hates him for being different. However when Sherlock is reaped in the 75th Hunger Games everything changes. How will Sherlock cope when he is suddenly thrown into a kill or be killed world with teens from all around the country? With new friends and dangers around every corner can the young genius survive? The Game is on...
1. Chapter 1

**Righteo so, I was procrastinating from studying a while back (as you do) and I stumbled across some really awesome Hunger Games/Sherlock crossover fiction. Unfortunately though the majority of the fics (on this site at least) are currently unfinished so I hope to change that with this one!**

**To avoid any confusion I may as well state here that this is a crossover fic of which uses the world of The Hunger Games but not the characters, the story assumes Katniss and Peeta's story never happened and instead will focus on what happens during the 75th Games if the Sherlock cast (as teenagers) were to take part. I am setting it in a Quarter Quell year so as I can mess about with the rules a little bit and makes things more... interesting. **

**Needless to say there will be some character death in this fic to come as well as possibly graphic descriptions of injuries and all that fun gory stuff *insert evil laugh here.* **

**Feel free to comment/review and stuff and criticise if you wish but try to leave it constructive and not too mean because fanfic authors have feelings too. **

**Disclaimer: I own neither The Hunger Games nor Sherlock although if someone wants to give me a Benedict Cumberbatch as a present I won't say no ;)**

Sherlock Holmes awoke to the sound of a small child crying down the street. He opened his bright aqua eyes tiredly and pushed himself up by his elbows on the bed and yawned. It was early, a little before 7am. Sherlock sighed and allowed himself to fall back down on his thin pillow and blanket. Sherlock deduced that the day that was in it, that the toddler outside would not be the only person he'd hear cry today. It was Reaping Day after all.

Sherlock quickly realised the chances of him being able to fall back to sleep were remote so he got up and dressed quickly, pulled on his boots and left the house without eating breakfast, basically following the routine he performed every morning.

Although the sun had barely risen in the sky in District 12, the Seam was a hive of activity. Fathers, brothers, mothers and sisters exited their homes in soot-covered overalls and headed towards the mines. Sherlock sidestepped out of the way as a group of boys, only a few years older than himself pushed past him towards the quarry, "freak alert," one of the muttered pushing into Sherlock roughly. Sherlock grimaced but ignored the boy, he was used to the name calling by now. He wasn't particularly liked in the District...

Sherlock kicked the ground bitterly, sending a dust cloud skywards as he took one last pitiful glance at the miners before heading in the opposite direction. Sherlock's brother Mycroft was Deputy Mayor of District 12 and at the age of twenty-three was currently the youngest person of significant power in parliament, not that Mycroft's position helped Sherlock much. Yes Mycroft was earning more than the miners but when one was in a "respectable position" one had to keep up appearances. Most of the money Mycroft earned was spent on himself although he did send a small portion of money Sherlock's way, enough for Sherlock to stay in school and scrounge enough food to live on. The _tesserae helped out a lot too. However, Sherlock mostly went hungry. He usually shrugged this off though stating that digestion slowed him down. _

_Sherlock crawled under the fence of which surrounded an abandoned shack and climbed in through a broken window to the dank one roomed abode. To others it was a run down, termite invested hole but to Sherlock it was his lab and home to his many experiments. _

_Sherlock had a passion for science and was often carrying out experiments involving mould, small dead creatures and the juices of different berries and fruits that grew in District 12. He was well versed in Biology and Chemistry and had an acute understanding of Physics. Unfortunately three areas of knowledge that wouldn't exactly qualify him as a perfect miner but he held hope that he'd manage to make enough money somehow that he could spend his life working on his experiments rather than down in the mines however his current situation led him to almost safely deduce that a life free from the mines would not be the life he lived. _

_Sherlock was not particularly well liked in his District, he was different and that was enough for people to pick on him. Apparently there was such a thing as being too clever, however Sherlock didn't believe that. There was no such thing as being too clever, only too stupid of people existed in Sherlock's eyes. Needless to say whenever Sherlock voiced these opinions they didn't go down particularly well... He often made deductions about people but more so only voiced them when people were annoying him and such. Only last week he'd deduced that Philip Anderson a boy in his English class used to wet the bed until the age of fifteen after the boy had tripped him up in the school hall the other day. Needless to say Sherlock still had the black eye to show from that little deduction. Sherlock would not be sorry if Anderson's name was called out at the Reaping this afternoon._

_Sherlock moved to check on the decaying wing of an owl and his mind wandered to the Reaping. It was the 75th anniversary of the Games this year meaning that new special rules had been added. This year it was decided that forty-eight Tributes, two boys and two girls from each District would enter the Games and that two children would be crowned winners as the end. Hardly the fairest rules in existence but what could one do? _

_Sherlock put away his experiments not really in the mood to look at them anymore and sat down on an old dusty chair and leaned across the woodworm infected desk in front of him and sighed. Sherlock detested the Hunger Games but then again if you lived anywhere else besides the Capitol who liked them? _

Sherlock waited until nearly the last possible moment before heading to the square and registering, he owed the Capitol nothing and if by turning up slightly late he could inconvenience some of their workers then he'd take pride in that fact. He allowed the peacekeeper to take a blood sample and signed in before trudging over towards the other sixteen year old boys and waiting to find out which poor sods would be chosen this year.

A woman in an alarming pink coat practically skipped up onto the stage, her name was Jennifer Wilson and she was the member of the Capitol who turned up to District 12 every year to call out the names of the teenagers who were almost guaranteed to be dead within a month. Sherlock sighed he hated the woman and her stupid pink coat.

"Hello beautiful people," proclaimed Jennifer in far too jolly of an accent. Sherlock rolled his eyes at the woman's absurdity. It was as if she didn't even understand what she was doing. She was about to call out the names of four children and earmark them for death, hardly a time to be happy...

"We'll get straight to business, yes?" she said in her aggravating tone. The woman walked (in shoes so high she could hardly move) towards a glass bowl with the names of all the eligible girls in District 12. She plopped her manicured hand into the bowl and pulled out a name quickly.

"And the first tribute from District 12 is... Molly Hooper!"

Sherlock flinched, he knew Molly. She was one of the very few people who was actually nice to him in school. She was a timid girl but she was clever, almost as good as he was at biology... almost. Sherlock watched as the small mousy haired girl walked up onto the stage. He turned away and looked down at his feet. She didn't stand a chance.

The curly haired teen was lost in his own world and didn't hear the name of the second girl who was called he finally looked up to see a plump raven haired girl he didn't recognise walk up to the stage crying before taking her place beside Molly. The girl must have only just turned 12, Sherlock was pretty sure he could hear the girl's parents crying in the crowd.

Jennifer Wilson seemed oblivious to the worried faces of the girls and tried to make small talk with them for the sake of the cameras. Sherlock was happy to see neither girl spoke. "Fair play to them," he whispered.

"Okay then," said Jennifer seemingly unaffected by the girls' lack of response. "To the boys!" There was a moment's pause as Jennifer placed her hand into the glass bowl and produced a name. She paused before calling out "Henry Knight!"

Sherlock bit his lip, he knew Henry, they were neighbours in the Seam Henry was only fourteen and even worse off than Sherlock. If you could call Sherlock malnourished that Henry was practically a walking carcass, there was nothing to him at all.

Sherlock watched as the three tributes stood together, Sherlock knew in his heart they were all as good as dead. None of them would survive, nobody from District 12 could survive not when the tributes from some of the other Districts had been training since before they could walk and got three meals a day, people from District 12 didn't stand a chance...

"And the last tribute of District 12 is..." began Jennifer Wilson pulling out a final name.

"And the last child I'll sentence to death is..." said Sherlock in a tone mocking Jennifer's accent.

"Sherlock Holmes!" said the woman in pink loudly.

**Obvious first chapter I know but necessary. More character building and adventure to come. 'Til next time... toodles ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello! I now present you with chapter two! We're currently having really nice weather in Ireland (for once) so I am making the most of that whilst working on this also! I'm taking the story a little slowly at the moment but I have a lot planned for when we actually hit the arena,**

**As always feel free to comment/review and any and all criticisms will be taken on board. Just try to be constructive. **

**Disclaimer: Not mine... yet.**

Sherlock looked up at the mention of his name and stood still for a moment. He'd thought that this would happen every year, hell he'd had nightmares about his name being called when he wasn't even eligible to participate in the Games yet, he'd remembered his brother slapping him and telling him to cop himself on and go back to sleep and that if he ever was called on to be in The Hunger Games crying wouldn't help.

Someone pushed Sherlock roughly from behind and he stumbled. He turned to see Philip Anderson behind him.

"Go on freak," he said gruffly.

Sherlock just cut the boy a look before trudging forwards towards the stage, the crowd separating for him. Nobody wanting to be near the dead boy walking.

He stepped up onto the stage and took his place beside Henry and ignored the questions from Jennifer Wilson. He simply stood staring out angrily at the crowd in front of him. He couldn't help but notice the gleeful expressions of the young adults, yeah it sucked that four of their own were more than likely going to be dead in less than a month but better them than us. And better yet that one of them was Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

There was some customary bullshit after that that Sherlock deleted from memory before he and the other tributes were led into separate rooms to say their last good byes to their families. Sherlock somehow managed to curl his lanky frame into a small armchair in the middle of the room and waited to see if he'd have any visitors... scratch that visitor, who else would bother coming besides Mycroft?

"Bad posture will not get you far in the Games brother dear," said Mycroft dully as he entered the room to find Sherlock wrapped up in the chair. Sherlock lifted his head. "Oh, and I thought I had just discovered the secret to becoming victorious, oh darn."

Mycroft scowled. "There's nothing I can do to get you out of this one Sherlock," he said in a small voice.

"I don't recall asking for your help Mycroft," replied Sherlock putting his head back down on the chair's armrest.

"Polite as always Sherlock," said Mycroft in a clipped tone.

There was an awkward silence between the brothers for a moment; neither was entirely sure what to say.

"The mayor asked me to journey to the Capitol with the tributes," said Mycroft after a long pause. "I didn't think I'd be bringing my kid brother along too." Mycroft's voice threatened to break but he sustained his composure, this was not the time for sentiment.

Sherlock shot up from the chair. "You're coming to the Capitol?"

"Yes," said Mycroft simply. "Since District 12's only winning tribute died last May there was nobody to attend the Capitol with this year's tributes, obviously the mayor can't leave so he asked me to accompany this year's contestants."

Sherlock furrowed his brow. He wasn't quite sure what to make of this little announcement. He finally simply shrugged his shoulders and collapsed back down on the chair. "I guess I'll see you on the train then... brother mine," he said dismissively.

Mycroft nodded, he knew better than to continue talking to his little brother after a blatant dismissal. He stood up and walked to the door. He reached out for the handle and stopped. "Sherlock?"

"Hmmm?"

"You're smarter than them you know. You could win this," said Mycroft.

Sherlock looked up and studied the older man for a moment. "Unlikely," he said finally.

"Oh Sherlock," said Mycroft in a singsong tone. "How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, _however improbable_, must be the truth?"

Before Sherlock could say anything Mycroft left the room closing the door behind him leaving his little brother alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Sherlock was left in the room for another forty minutes or so before two peacekeepers came and dragged him from the room, a quick car journey brought him to the train station where he was met with a dozen cameras and news reporters shouting his name.

"Oh for God sake," he muttered under his breath combing his hair with his fingers in a weak attempt to cover his face. "Do they really not have anything better to photograph?"

"Seemingly not kid," said the cabbie.

Sherlock sighed through his nose as he watched a peacekeeper clear his way to the taxi and Sherlock prepared to be roughly dragged from the car.

"Hey kid?" said the cabbie suddenly and Sherlock turned as the peacekeeper ripped open the door and grabbed Sherlock's shirt.

"May the odds be ever in your favour," said the cabbie honestly and Sherlock gave a weak smile as he was pulled from the car.

Sherlock, Henry, Molly and the other girl who Sherlock soon discovered was called Kinsa were forced to stand on the platform of the train station as their photos were taken. Sherlock could easily see he had been the only one of the four tributes who hadn't cried. He remembered Mycroft's words from when he was a child and looked down at his feet. "Fuck the Capitol anyway," he mumbled.

After an unnecessary amount of photos had been taken Sherlock and the others were finally permitted entry onto the train. Sherlock had actually never been on a train before and something akin to a childlike glee burned inside him at the thoughts of the giant engine, pity about the final destination though...

"Is it true?" asked a small voice behind him.

Sherlock turned to see Molly Hooper had caught up with his long strides and was doing a silly kind of fast paced walk to keep up with him as he walked down the train's carriage.

"Is what true?" asked Sherlock.

"Is your brother coming with us?"

Sherlock stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Yes," he said monotonously.

"You're lucky," said Molly quietly, it was evident from her throaty voice that she'd been sobbing a lot not so long ago. "I wish my family could come with me."

"Mycroft really is more of a burden than a prize to be honest," said Sherlock ignoring Molly's pitiful words.

"At least your brother is here with you," said Molly her tone becoming darker.

"Oh yes," said Sherlock venomously. "How wonderful, Sherlock Holmes has just been sentenced to death but no need to worry his big brother will be there to hold his hand all the way to the arena! Excuse me if I don't wish to see the silver lining in this turn of events Ms. Hooper." With that Sherlock stormed on forwards leaving Molly alone in the carriage.

Sherlock slammed the carriage door behind him and took a seat by a large table; Mycroft was already here.

"I do realise you are going to be participating in the Hunger Games but there really is not a need for you to make enemies before we've even pulled out of the station Sherlock."

Sherlock simply scoffed and proceeded to play with a coaster that was on the table. "What difference does it make?"

Before Mycroft could give Sherlock an answer the door Sherlock had slammed only moments ago opened and Molly, Henry and Kinsa entered the room.

Mycroft made an attempt to smile at the other tributes. "Hello," he said in a sickly sweet tone that almost made Sherlock gag. "Come on sit down, they are about to serve dinner."

Sherlock continued to play with the coaster in his hands and ignored the others as train attendants crowded into the room with tureens of poached vegetables, mashed potatoes and lamb chops in rich gravy. Sherlock perked up despite himself at the sight of the food, he often told himself he didn't need to eat like other people and that digestion slowed him down but he couldn't help salivating as the attendants carried out the food and his stomach growled loudly.

Sherlock helped himself to a large plateful of food, taking a sample of something from each of the tureens before sitting back down at the table curling one of his legs beneath him.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at Sherlock's plate. "There's no need to eat everything on the train Sherlock," he said in a baritone.

Sherlock tore a piece of meat from the bone. "The Capitol are forcing me to fight for my life against almost fifty other teenagers the least they can do is buy me dinner first."

Molly smiled. "He has a point," she said in a small voice.

Kinsa and Henry simply made a sniffing noise and poked at their food, eating slowly.

Mycroft eyed all the tributes sceptically before started on his own food. "You may consider splitting into groups, two of you could win this after all."

"I'm not teaming up with the freak," said Kinsa with a sudden burst of venom glaring at Sherlock.

Sherlock took an exaggerated bite from a carrot and raised an eyebrow. "Fine with me. I wouldn't ally with you anyway... perhaps you might want to slow down on the carbohydrates Kinsa," he said coldly as Kinsa stopped spooning potatoes onto her plate and looked as if she may just burst into tears again.

Sherlock grunted as Henry kicked him under the table. "Leave her alone," he said trying to sound brave.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the younger boy but said nothing and turned his attention back to his dinner.

Molly and Mycroft exchanged a nervous glance before Mycroft began speaking again. "I assume that you and Kinsa plan on working together then?" he asked Henry.

Henry and Kinsa nodded in unison.

"And dying together too I'm afraid," said Sherlock clearing his plate and standing up.

"Sherlock!" said Mycroft sternly.

Sherlock didn't bother to acknowledge his brother. "I'm going to go explore," he said walking across the room.

"Sherlock we really should talk about what's going to happen," said Kinsa seemingly gaining her confidence back.

"Will talking help me survive an arrow to the chest?"

The others at the table remained silent.

"I thought so," said Sherlock. "I'm going to go explore," he repeated his tone final as he exited the room.

**Might leave it there for now... 'til next time! Toodles ;) **


	3. Chapter 3

**A bit longer than my previous chapters, I am attempted to get all the build up and set up chapters out there so I can bring us into the arena and start with the action and fun stuff! Feel free to comment/review and all that jazz. **

**Disclaimer: Not mine. **

Sherlock wandered around the train aimlessly. He didn't really have anywhere to go and no desire to be anywhere either to be perfectly honest. He ended up walking to the very last carriage and sat down on a couch by a window that was looking out to where the train had come.

Sherlock leant his head against the cool pane of glass and sighed. He knew from having watched past Games that they wouldn't even enter the arena for at least a week... and until then he'd have to take part in interviews, feign a healthy relationship with his brother and worst of all... socialise, how dull... why not just kill us all now?

Sherlock heard the door behind him click open, without turning around he knew it was Molly. Molly had a strange walk; she dragged her left foot slightly so you could always hear her coming.

"Hey," he said without lifting his head from the glass.

"Hi," she replied sitting down on the couch but she kept her distance. "Are you okay?" she asked.

Sherlock took his head away from the glass and looked at her. "A bit of a redundant question I think, don't you?"

Molly gave him a nervous smile. "I know," she said. "Stupid question... I just mean... well... I don't know what I mean really..."

Molly trailed off, mentally punishing herself for sounding stupid.

"Well, when you figure out what you mean get back to me," said Sherlock in a monotone.

"You don't have to try and act cool you know," said Molly looking down at her hands.

"I'm not acting."

"Sherlock... we could all be dead in a few weeks!"

"A sound deduction Ms. Hooper, but what's your point?"

"I mean you could at least act like you want to live!"

Sherlock scoffed. "Molly you've seen how the kids from the other districts train for this, they can hunt they are well fed they-

"They're not smart like you though, Sherlock I honestly think you could win this."

Sherlock studied Molly for a moment, her body language, the way she was holding herself, her shaky hands and trembling lip and her dilated pupils... Sherlock rolled his eyes and stood up.

"Don't allow sentiment to warp your judgement," he said coolly walking towards the door.

Molly made an exasperated sound as she realised what Sherlock was implying. "I think together we could make a good team Sherlock," she said her voice breaking slightly.

Sherlock licked his lip and considered this for a moment. "It would seem you're incapable of making two sound deductions in the one afternoon Molly, if I were you I'd be focusing on preserving your own life instead of worrying about mine."

Sherlock stormed out of the carriage and headed towards his room on the train. The room was lavish, with an en-suite and his quarters were larger than his house almost.

He was tempted to curl up into the bed and stay there, he'd eaten his food too quickly and it was richer than what his stomach was used to, he wasn't feeling great. He decided to have a shower instead. It had been months since he last had access to a decent hot water supply.

He walked into the bathroom and stripped down before hopping into the shower. There were several buttons and control panels and Sherlock lazily just slapped one of the panels with his hand and hoped for the best. Despite getting a spray of fruity smelling shampoo to the eye the shower was hot, relaxing and just what Sherlock needed. He stood under the shower until his skin became wrinkly and pink due to the water's temperature before sighing dramatically and slamming the shower off with his fist.

Sherlock dried off, put on a dressing gown and roughly towel dried his shaggy, curly dark hair.

Sherlock looked out the window of his room; it had become dark since he'd got into the shower. The day was nearly over; they'd arrive in the Capitol shortly after breakfast. Sherlock stared out the window vacantly. He could make out his clouded reflection in the glass; the black eye Anderson had given him the other day was still very noticeable. He smiled. The black eye would work in his favour it would tell the other tributes before he'd even met them that he was a fighter. His smile faltered, as he rethought out his reasoning, perhaps the black eye didn't say he was a fighter at all perhaps it made him look weak. He ran his hands through his hair and decided not to think about it. He instead collapsed down in his bed and despite everything that happened he fell asleep quickly.

Sherlock woke to the sound of knocking on his door.

"Mr. Holmmmmmesssssssssss," spoke the irritating voice of Jennifer Wilson. "Time to get up, up UP!"

Sherlock groaned and buried his head into his pillow. "Go away," he growled bitterly.

To his dismay Jennifer opened the door and entered his room. "Oh come on Sherlock, stop acting like a moody teenager."

"I am a moody teenager," grumbled Sherlock into his pillow.

"Well you're just going to have to cheer up aren't you?" said Jennifer mockingly throwing Sherlock some clean clothes.

"Well I think a battle to the death with forty-odd other teens from around the country will perk my spirits right up don't you?" said Sherlock giving up on going back to sleep and propping himself up on his elbows.

Jennifer grimaced. "Just get changed and come down for breakfast okay?"

Sherlock changed quickly and left the room heading towards the dining carriage. Everyone else was already up.

"Decided to join us then?" sneered Mycroft.

Kinsa and Henry both snorted and laughed on their French Toast and Sherlock made a mental note to kill them quickly when the Games began.

"I thought I'd take advantage of sleeping soundly whilst I could," said Sherlock and he poured himself some tea and spread strawberry jam on toast.

"Perhaps that isn't such a bad plan," admitted Mycroft before taking a sip of his coffee.

The five of them ate their breakfast as Jennifer entered the room and took a seat beside them completely ignoring the large array of food.

"Today is going to be busy, busy, busy!" she proclaimed joyously.

Sherlock took a teaspoon from the table and began eating jam from the jar; Mycroft cut him a disgruntled look but said nothing.

"Jennifer is right, you'll meet your stylists today, be presented in front of the nation and get your first look at the other tributes... It's going to be a long day."

"Is it really necessary for us to be prettied up?" asked Molly before taking a sip of pomegranate juice.

"Of course dear, how one presents oneself is of great importance don't you know. You must look your best at all times."

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow. "I'll be certain to make sure my tan is even when the other tributes are chasing me with a machete in the arena."

Molly tried to suppress a laugh and ended up choking on her juice. "I'll be sure that my manicure isn't chipped when throttling a boy from District 5!" she added.

Sherlock laughed and gave Molly a genuine smile; perhaps he'd judged her too quickly...

"You two won't last long with that attitude," said Jennifer in a snobbish tone as she pulled out an emery board from her handbag and began filing her nails.

"Challenge accepted," said Sherlock cockily as he ate another spoonful of jam.

"Wow," said Henry jumping up from the table and running to the window. "We're here."

"We're hardly here on holiday Henry," said Molly not exactly basking in the younger boy's excitement.

Sherlock finished off the jar of jam and began licking his spoon. "Indeed," he added. "I don't remember cheering the last time I seen a cemetery."

Henry looked back towards the table and glared at Sherlock. "I won't die here!" he said forcibly. "I'll ensure you will though!"

Sherlock scoffed. "We'll see about that."

"Boys it's not the time nor the place," began Jennifer half-heartedly.

Sherlock's icy eyes studied Henry quickly and he scoffed. "Oh Mr. Knight here is just having nicotine withdrawals," he said as he began pouring himself some more tea. "He'll be fine once he gets his fix."

Henry knitted his brows. "How did you?"

"Tobacco stains on your nails and finger tips suggest you have a prolonged smoking habit. The small wrinkles near your mouth are not uncommon to those of a heavy chain smoker; I'd say your father gave you your last cigarette before you said good-bye yesterday right? You had planned to hold on to the cigarette until later but smoked it then and instantly regretted it, you've been craving one every since and you've been cold turkey for a little under sixteen hours now," Sherlock smiled. "It must be killing you."

Henry simply bit his bottom lip. "Freak," he said simply before leaving the room.

"Was that entirely necessary Sherlock?" asked Mycroft refolding a napkin and placing it on his empty plate.

"How's the diet going brother mine?" asked Sherlock ignoring Mycroft's dig. Mycroft simply scowled and said nothing.

The train began to slow as it pulled into the station.

Sherlock drained his mug and stood up. "Into battle," he said simply standing up and exiting the dining carriage.

Much to Sherlock's annoyance there was another round of photographs before the tributes were brought to the hotel/training centre that they'd be staying in until they entered the arena. The place was a hive of activity. Seemingly everyone who lived in the Capitol was standing outside the building waiting to get a glimpse of the tributes. Sherlock ignored them. He wasn't in the mood to put on a happy face for the sake of the brain-dead Capitol residents.

Sherlock was introduced to his stylists instantly. He was guided into a room wherein he was scrubbed from head to toe with brushes, sponges and soaps which Sherlock thought scrubbed away at least two layers of his skin. A special ointment was applied to his black eye, which instantly reduced the swelling and bruising. His hair was washed and conditioned, his nails cut and reshaped and his body was rid of all its hair and applied some sort of serum that would prevent Sherlock from growing any facial hair during his stint in the arena.

The stylists then left the room telling Sherlock that, Mrs. Hudson, his head stylist would be with him in a moment to decide what to do next. Sherlock looked at his pale and thin naked form in the mirror as he waited for his stylist. His clean, fresh face, soft dark curls and hairless body made him look younger. He sighed. "It's sick," he said out loud. "They even turn us into looking even more childlike."

"Well then we're going to have to make you look a little bit more mature aren't we?"

Sherlock turned to see a woman who Sherlock guessed was in her sixties. She had a gentle motherly face and seemed kind. Sherlock decided almost instantly that he liked her.

"Here you go dear," she said handing him a dressing gown. "There is no need to stand around in the cold naked. No need at all."

Sherlock thanked Mrs. Hudson and wrapped the dressing gown around himself.

"How old are you?" asked Mrs Hudson as she studied Sherlock's form.

"Sixteen."

Mrs. Hudson shook her head. "Too young, far too young. I don't really agree with this you know?" she said.

Sherlock shrugged. "Nor do I, it won't change things though."

Mrs. Hudson smiled ruefully. "Come on dear let's get you ready."

"So is it mining outfits again this year?" asked Sherlock in a bored tone as he watched Mrs. Hudson skim through a notebook with outfit sketches and material samples.

"No," said Mrs. Hudson as she continued to flick through her book. "I was thinking of doing something different, there is a great hunting trade in 12 isn't there?"

Sherlock stopped for a second and suddenly had an image of wearing the skin of a wild boar. He contemplated lying but sighed. "Yes, a lot of the meat that the Capitol receive is from the woods in 12."

Mrs. Hudson nodded. "This gives me an idea."

"Please tell me you're not going to make me wear an animal carcass."

Mrs. Hudson laughed. "Oh no dear, I don't even think the Capitol is ready for an outfit made out of meat yet."

Sherlock let out a sigh of relief. "Good."

Mrs. Hudson gave him a genuine smile and closed her book. "Let's go get ready huh?"

A few hours later Sherlock was looking at himself in the mirror before the presentation of the tributes and despite himself, he really did like how he looked. Mrs. Hudson had dressed him in simple dark jeans soft leather boots and a black tshirt with a leather jacket over the shirt. He also had a quiver and an imitation bow over his shoulder to emphasise the hunter loo. He liked how he looked. It aged him; he didn't look like a child in these new clothes.

Mrs Hudson entered the room and smiled. "You look wonderful Sherlock if I do say so myself."

Sherlock gave her a small smile.

"Just one final touch though," said Mrs. Hudson pulling a grey item from her bag and placing it on Sherlock's head.

The hat sat well on Sherlock's head, his curls poking through the peak and sides.

Sherlock furrowed his brow and gave Mrs. Hudson a questioning look.

"It's a deer stalker," she said matter-of-factly. "All the hunters wear them!"

Sherlock opened his mouth to say the hat looked more like a Death Frisbee but he stopped himself. "I think I've seen them before now you mention it," he lied.

Mrs. Hudson put her hands on his shoulders in a motherly way and smiled. "You're going to be teamed up with Molly," she said. "Seeing as you too are the same age. Is that okay with you?"

Sherlock simply nodded. "Is there anything I need to do, say?"

Mrs. Hudson shrugged. "Not really... just... just be yourself!"

Sherlock smiled devilishly. "No problem."

Sherlock walked outside and was thankful for the heavy jacket, it was a bit on the chilly side out here. He walked towards the carriages for the tributes from 12. He sniggered when he seen that unlike himself, Kinsa and Henry had in fact been dressed in miners outfits.

"Sherlock you look amazing," said a voice behind him.

Sherlock turned to see Molly was walking behind him. His mouth gaped open she looked so different. She no longer looked like the timid little girl from school. She was wearing a pair of dark jeans, a tight black blouse which showed off her slim frame, a brown leather jacket that brought out the colour in her chocolate-drop eyes and her hair was styled into a braid, which draped over her shoulder. Her face was relatively free of make-up which just a small amount of eye make-up and a hint of red on her lips. Molly also had a bow over her shoulder. She looked both beautiful and fierce.

"You look-" Sherlock began but he all of a sudden didn't know how to finish the sentence. He frowned. "I mean you look... well," he said lamely.

Molly's face faltered a bit she seemed slightly crestfallen at Sherlock's lousy response. "Shall we take our places then?" she asked walking past him.

Sherlock bit his lip. What had just happened? Why had he stumbled on his words? Sherlock Holmes never stumbles on his words... What the Hell happened? He'd just been surprised. He wasn't expecting her to look... nice. That was all. She just looked different. So different...

"Smooth move Romeo," mocked Henry from the carriage.

Sherlock cut the younger boy daggers. "Shut up."

Kinsa and Henry simply laughed as Sherlock flicked up his jacket collar slammed his fists into his pockets and followed Molly.

Sherlock wasn't looking where he was going and walked into something or rather someone.

"Ooof," said the person Sherlock bumped into as they tripped over.

"Oh... emmm... sorry about that," said Sherlock apologetically. "I wasn't looking were I was going."

Sherlock extended a hand to the boy he'd tripped up and the boy took it.

"It's okay no harm done," said the boy standing up and dusting himself off. "I thought for a second you'd decided the start the Games early."

Sherlock gave the boy a weak smile as he studied him for a moment. Blond hair, medium built, not fat but not thin either, works out, strong muscles and upper body strength, has undergone military like training judging on the stoic manner he presents himself, definitely one of the career tributes. Despite his fierce and strong presence, he seemed friendly. His eyes were warm and soft and he was looking at Sherlock and smiling as if it didn't matter they were soon going to be fighting for survival. There was something special about this boy and Sherlock couldn't quite put his finger on what it was that made this boy so different from everyone else.

"So District 1 or 2?" asked Sherlock with a smile.

"District 1... how did you...?"

"Hey I saw that!" Said an angry voice coming towards the boy from District 1 and Sherlock. The next thing he knew Sherlock was pinned up against one of the carriages.

An arm was rammed up against Sherlock's throat making breathing difficult. "You tripped John up on purpose!"

"Mary," said John in an agitated tone. "Let him go, alright?"

Sherlock examined the figure that had him pinned. She also had blonde hair and was of medium height, also well versed in military training and fighting, accustomed to violence. Sherlock guessed she was this boy from 1's girlfriend. Sherlock rolled his eyes. People always allowed sentiment to get in the way didn't they?

"I think if you were actually paying attention to what happened you would have seen that I bumped into your boyfriend by mistake."

Mary loosened her grip on Sherlock slightly and Sherlock took his opportunity to push past her.

"Do try and keep your girlfriend under control," he said as he walked past John.

"How did you know...?" stuttered the John.

"How did I know that the girl from the same District as you who just pushed me up against a carriage for talking to you is your girlfriend? Hmmmm let's just call it intuition shall we?"

Mary shook her head. "Freak," she muttered.

"That's one name for me," said Sherlock with a smirk.

"And what's your real name?" asked John intrigued. Sherlock stared at him. John was definitely interesting...

"Sherlock Holmes, District 12," Sherlock gave a wink. "Don't fall off the carriage eh? Leads to a messy death." With that Sherlock dashed off towards his own carriage leaving the couple behind him.

"Can you believe his nerve?" asked Mary as she ascended the carriage.

Her boyfriend smiled. "I like him," he said simply.

Mary turned and faced him. "What?"

John smiled warmly as he watched the dark haired teen run off. He didn't know the boy but he was different, John could see that and he was looking forward to finding out more about him. He'd definitely be seeing more of Sherlock Holmes. "I like him," he repeated.

Mary simply scoffed and climbed up the carriage. "Looks like I'm dating a freak too," she mumbled.

John laughed. "You say the sweetest things."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys, back again! As always feel free to review/comment and all that jazz! Hope you like the update. :)**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

Sherlock climbed up onto the carriage and joined Molly.

"What was that about?" she asked gesturing towards the couple on one of the District 1 carriages.

"Oh nothing," said Sherlock dismissively. "Just making friends."

"Since when have you been friendly?" asked Molly smirking up at Sherlock.

Sherlock scoffed. "First time for everything," he said simply.

"Miracles do exist," said Molly as the carriage began to move along slowly.

Sherlock smiled. "I wouldn't go that far."

As the horses picked up speed Molly reached over and grabbed Sherlock's hand. Sherlock's eyes widened and he gave her a confused look.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I feel like I might fall if I don't hold on to something."

Sherlock simply gave her a nod and stared forward.

The presenters began introducing the tributes but Sherlock didn't listen to them instead he watched the crowd as they gorged themselves on pretzels and fried greasy meat and clapped enthusiastically as the carriages rode past.

"Look at them," said Sherlock. "Some of the people back in 12 watching this wouldn't have had a hot meal in weeks and look at how they waste their food."

Molly followed Sherlock's gaze towards a man who was sloppily eating peanuts and dropping well over a third of the bag's worth of food.

"It disgusts me," said Sherlock wrinkling his nose.

Molly squeezed Sherlock's hand but said nothing. Sherlock looked down at Molly's hand clasped around his own and bit his lip. He didn't know how he felt about this contact... He only knew he didn't hate it. Ugh, Sherlock internally slapped himself. He was about to take part in The Hunger Games this was not the time to allow sentiment to cloud his judgement. Without giving it a second thought he snatched his hand away.

Molly recoiled as if she'd be electrocuted. She gave Sherlock a hurt look.

"You're emmm... making my hand sweaty," said Sherlock rubbing his palm on his t-shirt.

"Oh," said Molly looking at her feet. "Okay then."

Sherlock stared at Molly as she refused to look at him. He felt hollow. He opened his mouth to apologise but stopped himself. What did he have to apologise for? He'd done nothing wrong... right? Ugh. Sherlock cursed himself and the Capitol as he could feel his anger building.

"She's not even looking at us," said Molly suddenly.

"Pardon?" said Sherlock as he stopped silently berating himself.

"President Smallwood," said Molly looking up at the Presidential Box in the stands. "She is on her computer or something look."

The anger in Sherlock rose again. "Oh so the idea of forty-eight teens fighting it out to the death isn't exciting enough for her is it?" asked Sherlock venomously. "Well maybe it's time we got her attention eh?"

"SMALLWOOD!" Yelled Sherlock loudly. Molly jumped at Sherlock's tone. "Are we boring you Ma'am?" Sherlock pulled the mock bow and an arrow from his back and took aim at the president.

The crowd gasped in unison. Molly put her hand on Sherlock's forearm. "Stop," she hissed.

President Smallwood stood up and raised an eyebrow at Sherlock. Sherlock smirked and threw the bow from the carriage. "Nice of you to grace us with your presence Ma'am... much obliged." spoke Sherlock sarcastically. With that Sherlock regained his composure and acted as if nothing had happened.

"What the Hell was that?" hissed Molly.

"I may be a contestant in her games but I will not submit to the Capitol. They. Do. Not. Own. Me... That woman has almost certainly sentenced us to death she can at least take a moment out of her schedule to pay attention to us."

Molly opened her mouth to say something but was speechless. "Sherlock..."

"What's the worst she can do Miss Hooper?" asked Sherlock turning to Molly giving her a devilish smirk. "Kill me?"

"Don't joke about that," said Molly.

"About what?"

Molly looked back up at Sherlock her chocolate coloured eyes damp with tears. "About dying."

The presentation of the tributes lasted about half an hour but it felt longer, Sherlock was happy to finally be dismissed. He was confused as to what Molly had been saying, why would she care if he died or not? He didn't care if she died... The annoying voice of his brother played in his head told him "oh Sherlock we both know that's not quite true," it said. Sherlock scowled. Well okay maybe he did care a little...

Sherlock followed Molly, Kinsa and Henry back to the District 12 quarters. Sherlock had no more stepped through the door when Mycroft practically jumped on him.

"What the HELL were you thinking?"

"I was told to be myself," said Sherlock simply continuing to walk onwards. Mycroft slammed him against the wall, causing his younger brother to gasp.

"You just threatened the President in front of all of Panem, you idiot!" barked Mycroft. "She can make your life Hell Sherlock, absolute Hell!"

Sherlock pushed Mycroft away from himself. "I think she's done a pretty good job of that already don't you?"

"Sherlock she could have you killed before you even step foot in the arena," said Mycroft watching Sherlock as he walked away.

"Good night brother dear," said Sherlock ignoring him and slamming his bedroom door behind him.

Sherlock pulled off jacket and threw it on the floor, he tore off the rest of his clothes and jumped into the shower slamming his palm on the control panel not really caring what temperature the water was. The water was almost scalding hot but Sherlock revelled in the heat. He washed all the creams and shimmering powders that Mrs. Hudson and the other stylists had applied to his body and face to make him look 'prettier,' Sherlock stood under the hot water for almost twenty minutes before sighing heavily and stepping out of the shower.

He was taken aback by the dryers, which activated as soon as he stepped out of the shower. He grimaced as hot air erupted around his body drying him instantly. Sherlock blew a raspberry. "Well that was unpleasant," he said to himself. Sherlock pulled on a pair of pyjamas and a cotton t-shirt and began looking round his room. The room had a large bookshelf filled with volumes regarding forests, vegetation, hunting techniques and first aid. Sherlock smirked and picked up a volume about building weapons and began skimming through it. He sat cross-legged on a woolly rug on the floor by an open fireplace and studied the text and photos in the book, cataloguing the information into his Mind Palace.

Sherlock sat studying the book for about a half an hour before there was a knock on his door.

"Go away Mycroft," Sherlock said without moving from the floor.

"Don't worry I'm not your brother," said Molly poking her head around the door.

Sherlock looked up at her as she entered the room. "Is it okay if I come in?" she asked.

"You already have," said Sherlock turning his attention back to his book.

Molly smiled shyly. "Maybe the other tributes will just be insulted to death by you," she said sitting down beside him.

"The universe isn't so kind unfortunately," said Sherlock turning the page of his book.

"What are you reading?"

"A book about making weapons out of shrubbery and woodland material, it'll probably come in handy... I'd say there are similar books in your room," said Sherlock hoping Molly would get the hint.

"There is but I'm not in the mood to read them yet, I will after the training session tomorrow," said Molly looking at her nails.

Sherlock sighed as Molly either did not get or chose to ignore his prompt for her to leave.

"Are you worried about tomorrow?" Molly asked Sherlock as he turned another page of his book.

"Nope," said Sherlock popping the 'p.' "It'll be interesting to meet the other tributes, study them, analyse their strengths."

"Yeah," said Molly absently.

Sherlock stopped looking at his book and looked at Molly. "What?"

"This is really happening," said Molly simply twirling her fingers in the woolly rug.

"You've been on fire with the deductions lately Miss Hooper," said Sherlock coolly before turning back to his book.

Molly glared at him. "Why do you have to make everything so hard?"

Sherlock looked up from his book before placing it on the floor between himself and Molly. "How about if we look at this together?" he suggested.

Molly inhaled deeply before nodding. "Okay."

Sherlock smiled weakly. "Come on then."

The two teens sat crossed legged on the floor skimming through the books and taking mental notes for little over an hour without saying much. Just as Sherlock closed a volume about poisonous berries and vegetation he bit his lip and stared at Molly.

"I'm sorry," he said lamely.

Molly looked at Sherlock. "For what?"

"I've been rude... we're all in the same boat... and well I've been very dismissive of your... emm... your emmm feelings... I'm sorry."

Molly suddenly gasped and placed her palm on Sherlock's forehead. Sherlock flinched. This was an unexpected turn of events. "Molly emmm... what are you doing?"

"I'm checking your temperature," Molly stated matter of factly.

Sherlock furrowed his brow. "Why?" he asked dumbly.

"Well you're apologising," said Molly her stoic features breaking as she broke into a grin. "So something's obviously wrong."

Sherlock laughed. "I'm really very sick," he said jokingly. "I don't know what I'm saying."

Molly sat back and smiled. "I think you might need a doctor."

"I think I'm beyond that," said Sherlock.

Molly smiled ruefully and stared out the window. "I think you'll live," she said glancing back to Sherlock.

Sherlock licked his lips and looked into the dying embers of the fire. "For now maybe."

Molly put her hand on Sherlock's. "You'll make it through the games Sherlock," she said confidently. "I'm sure of it."

"Well that makes one of us," said Sherlock glancing first at Molly's hand on his own before looking back to Molly.

"Sherlock Holmes doubting himself?" said Molly with a grin. "You really most be sick."

Sherlock chuckled softly as he took a book about first aid from the shelf and opened it in front of Molly and himself. "Let's get back to work shall we? Maybe we'll find out how to re-establish a sociopath's confidence."

"Oh because there's a dying need for that." said Molly sarcastically.

Sherlock smirked. "Down girl."

**Next time the training sessions begins and we meet some familiar faces. 'til then... toodles :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Another chapter yay! As always feel free to review/comment. **

Sherlock woke early the following morning and got dressed quickly before heading down to the dining area. Mycroft was sitting on his own reading a newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee. Sherlock paused in the hallway and contemplated waiting for somebody else to come downstairs before entering the room. However he dismissed this thought and strutted over to the breakfast counter helping himself to a large blueberry muffin and a mug of hot chocolate before sitting across from his brother without saying a word.

"Good morning brother dear," said Mycroft in a monotone. "I wouldn't bother with the pleasantries but I fear you may threaten me with your butter knife if I don't pay attention to the poor little thing that you are."

Sherlock dipped his finger in his hot chocolate and licked the foam from his finger. "Please don't try and be comedic Mycroft it really doesn't suit you."

Mycroft lowered his cup into its saucer and gave his brother a stern look.

"I don't think you fully understand the seriousness of this situation Sherlock you-

"Oh no brother mine," said Sherlock putting his food down and readjusting himself in his chair. "I think it is you who doesn't fully understand the seriousness of this situation."

"You overreacted Sherlock," said Mycroft picking his cup back up again.

"Well President Smallwood underreacted," countered Sherlock childishly.

Mycroft raised his cup only to put it down loudly. "Sherlock-

"Mycroft if it is an apology you're looking for you're not getting one from me."

"She can have you killed," said Mycroft his voice smaller now.

"I think she already has, don't you?" said Sherlock. "Only two of us get out Mycroft. You've seen the others."

Mycroft looked across at his brother who had lowered his head and sat cross-legged on the chair. His brother had begun to absently pluck blueberries from his muffin. Mycroft felt sick as he watched his little brother fiddle with his breakfast. Sherlock may be sixteen but it Mycroft's eyes he'd always be the little toddler who used to beg him to read stories before bedtime... The thoughts of what Sherlock was about to face made Mycroft sick...

Mycroft licked his lips and took a breath. "The look on her face was priceless though," he said finally.

Sherlock looked up. "Huh?"

"Smallwood," said Mycroft smiling weakly. "She looked like she'd just been bitten by a dog on her rear end"

"Now there's a sight I'd like to see," said Sherlock with a smirk popping a blueberry into his mouth.

Mycroft chuckled he knew no other way of lightening the mood without changing the subject. The Holmes boys simply didn't do emotions. "A sight that would be indeed brother dear," he said before taking another sip of his coffee as Kinsa and Henry entered the room.

* * *

About two hours later Sherlock, Molly, Kinsa and Henry entered the training area. They were the last District to come into the training centre. Sherlock scanned the area quickly. There were several stations featuring archery, trap making, first aid, weight lifting and many others.

"Well we definitely won't be bored," said Molly looking around.

"Seemingly not," agreed Sherlock.

Sherlock's attention turned to the other contestants. Due to the way the presentation of tributes takes place it was difficult to get a proper look at the other contestants so now was Sherlock's first chance to study the competition.

The blonde couple from last night were working together at the shooting range, Sherlock couldn't help put gulp when he realised that both of them were crack shots. The boy, John, was showing two younger kids how to load a gun whilst Mary looked bored and continued to shoot at the target. Sherlock guessed the kids John was helping were also from District 1.

Sherlock watched as two large tributes from District 7 began working at the wrestling station and three tributes from District 3 worked on the wild berry identification station.

"Where do you want to start?" asked Molly. "Trap making? Or... I don't know camouflage? Maybe the heavy weight area?"

"Archery," said Sherlock simply as he began walking over to the archery station.

"Oh okay," said Molly in a small voice quickening her step to catch up with Sherlock.

Sherlock examined a few of the bows checking their weight before deciding on one and loading it with an arrow. He quickly studied the two targets, one being a round target with a bull's eye the other a dummy hanging from the ceiling. Sherlock quickly choose the dummy and fired... Striking the canvas lining of the dummy were the neck would be.

"Kill shot," said a voice behind him. Sherlock turned to see John approaching him.

"Well I am not shooting to wound the enemy," said Sherlock loading the bow again. "It's kill or be killed," he said firing the arrow and hitting the dummy this time in the eye.

"Remind me not to get on the wrong side of you with a bow," said John jokingly.

Sherlock smiled. "Will do."

"About last night Mary-

"Forget it," said Sherlock instantly.

"But I-

"Considering the situation it's understandable that tensions will be running high," said Sherlock with a weak smile. "We're hardly here to make friends."

"Too true," said John sadly.

Sherlock took another shot at the dummy striking it in the centre of the chest.

"You really are quite a shot," said John impressed.

"I seen you at the firing range," said Sherlock not acknowledging John's compliment. "You're quite a shot yourself.

"Yeah but there's hardly going to be a gun in the arena," said John.

"They wouldn't bother teaching us how to use the weapons if there was no chance of them appearing in the arena," said Sherlock reloading his bow.

"Hopefully," said John ruefully.

Sherlock chuckled. "For my sake I hope not."

John laughed. "And I hope there isn't a bow and arrows."

Sherlock smiled. "Unfortunately for you John bows and arrows are a lot easier to construct in the wilderness than guns."

John laughed hollowly. "We're doomed."

The boys were interrupted by a sudden crash. Sherlock turned to see that in attempting to load her bow Molly had dropped everything to the floor. Molly stamped her foot like a child. "I can't do this!"

"Again," said Sherlock. "A first class deduction Miss Hooper."

"Sherlock!" protested Molly. "Stop with the jokes for a minute could you?"

"I wasn't joking," said Sherlock reloading his bow.

"I swear Sherlock I will shoot you with an arrow if you don't stop," said Molly as she gingerly picked up her bow and attempted to reload it.

Sherlock fired, his arrow tearing through the rope that hung the dummy from the ceiling causing it to crash to the floor. He turned back to Molly and cocked an eyebrow. "The way you're going you're more likely to shoot yourself," he said.

John couldn't help but laugh. "Are you two dating?" he asked. "You fight just like Mary and I do."

Sherlock flinched and dropped his bow, which crashed to the floor loudly.

Molly smirked. "Now who's the klutz? She asked with a grin.

Sherlock cut her a look. "Shut up Molly," he said simply. "And no we're not... emmm... we're not emmmm...

Molly laughed. "We're not going out," she clarified.

John smiled. "If you say so."

"I do," said Sherlock. "I do say so... we're not emmm boyfriend-girlfriend."

John simply smiled. "I better go back to Mary. It was nice talking to you two; maybe I'll see you at one of the other stations? Bye now."

With that John walked back over to join his girlfriend. Sherlock watched him walk away before picking back up his bow.

Molly nudged Sherlock playfully and Sherlock gave her a confused look. "What?" he said.

"I wouldn't be that bad you know," she said.

"Bad?" asked Sherlock. "Bad at what?"

"Being a girlfriend."

Sherlock dropped his bow again and cursed himself. "I-I never said you'd be bad," he said stumbling over his words.

Molly grinned. "You're blushing," she pointed out in a singsong tone.

"Am not," said Sherlock defensively but he could feel his cheeks burning. "I'm just emmm thirsty yeah... it's really hot in here... I'm going to get a drink."

Sherlock turned to leave. "Please don't impale yourself with an arrow in my absence."

"No promises," said Molly grinning.

Sherlock returned the smile before he realised what he was doing and turned quickly and practically ran from the archery station.

**A bit more cutesy than usual. I'll be bringing some familiar faces into the narrative in the next chapter. :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**And the next chapter is up. I think it should only be maybe 2-3 more chapters until we enter the Games. 'Til then I hope you like the next instalment. **

Sherlock walked over to the water cooler on the other side of the room and poured himself a cup of the cool liquid. "What even was that?" he asked himself angrily. "Since when have I started getting tongue tied because of Molly Hooper?"

Sherlock turned back to face the archery station whilst he drank his water. Molly had finally successfully managed to load her bow but her aim was atrocious. She missed the target by at least five feet. Sherlock smiled as he watched her reload her bow before he realised what he was doing. "What am I doing?" he asked himself. "I'm smiling at Molly? Ugh. Control Sherlock," he told himself. "Control. This is not the time to let emotions get in my way...

"Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side," he said aloud to himself. "Now is not the time to get distracted by stupid teenage hormones!"

"Good advice," said a voice behind him.

Sherlock turned to see a boy had come up beside him and was pouring himself some water. He seemed to be the same age as Sherlock, with black hair slicked back and brown eyes that were so dark they appeared soulless and black. He was very pale, even rivalling Sherlock's alabaster skin tone. He was almost a foot smaller than Sherlock but the boy had a domineering aura that seemed to scream that this boy was used to being in control.

"Jim Moriarty," said the boy extending a hand to Sherlock. "District 4."

Sherlock looked at Jim's pale hand for a moment before shaking it. "Sherlock Holmes," he said. "District 12."

"Oh no need to introduce yourself to me Sherlock," said Jim. "I remember you from last night... Great performance. You really showed the president."

Sherlock smiled weakly. "She looked bored, thought I'd just get her heart racing..."

"You definitely did that I think," said Jim. "Serves her right, she should be put in her place. I know if I win this I will change things... I will start a rebellion... I will change the future of Panem. Put the Capitol's children in the arena perhaps, see how they like it."

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at Jim's bitter comments. "You're definitely ambitious anyway," he said.

"Aren't you?" asked Jim. "What will you do if you win?"

Sherlock tossed his empty cup into the bin. "I... I hadn't really thought about it," said Sherlock truthfully.

Jim gave Sherlock a sorrowful look. "I'm disappointed."

"Disappointed?"

"Well after your little stunt last night I thought you were different... I thought there was a rebel inside of you Mr. Holmes" admitted Jim in a drawl. "I thought there was an actual brain behind the pretty face, a burning fire of ambition but it seems I was wrong. You're just as dull and stupid as the rest."

Jim turned to walk away but Sherlock grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. "You can call me a lot of things," said Sherlock venomously. "But stupid isn't one of them."

Jim laughed and broke from Sherlock's hold and fixed the taller boy's shirt collar. "Okay so you're not dumb then," he said condescendingly. "But Sherlock, as Dali said 'intelligence without ambition is a bird without wings'." Jim let go of Sherlock's shirt and turned to walk away once more. "You talk big by threatening the president," added Jim. "But you're ordinary you're on the side of the angels."

Sherlock inhaled sharply through his nose. He was seeing red, for some reason Jim's words were really getting to him. So what he hadn't thought so far ahead as to what he'd do if he won the Games that didn't mean he had no ambition? No reason for living. He would not be some pawn in the Capitol's games. He would not be a mindless angel. Sherlock Holmes had a brain in his head and he would not be taunted by some slick haired little boy from District 4."

Sherlock closed the gap between himself and Jim and spoke with intense integrity. "I may be on the side of the angels but don't think for one second that I am one of them," he hissed. "Trust me if I win the Capitol will not forget the name Sherlock Holmes."

"There we go," said Jim with a grin. "There's the fire."

Sherlock refused to break eye contact with the smaller boy.

"You know what Sherlock?" said Jim. "I think together we could make a good team. Together we could win this thing. Win the Games and then destroy the Capitol... We could do it you know."

Sherlock furrowed his brow. "Are you proposing an alliance?"

"Why yes Sherlock," said Jim in a singsong tone. "Don't you think we'd work well together?"

"Sherlock was taken aback by this suggestion. "I em-

"I'll let you think about it," said Jim. "I'm sure a clever boy like you will make the right choice. Goodbye Mr. Holmes."

And with that Jim left a confused Sherlock as he rejoined his fellow tributes from District 4.

* * *

Sherlock continued to go around the various stations with Molly for the rest of the afternoon but his mind kept trailing back to what Jim had said. He'd never expected anyone to ask to form an alliance with him especially not someone from a different District... He was tempted... But, could he really trust him?

"Sherlock are you done with that?" asked Molly bringing Sherlock back in touch with reality.

"Sorry?" asked Sherlock seemingly remembering where he was.

"The penknife?" asked Molly. "I want to try to make arrows out of sticks with it."

"Oh right," said Sherlock absently handing the blade over.

"Are you okay? asked Molly as she began sharpening a stick with the knife. "You've been acting weird."

Sherlock looked at Molly and then glanced quickly over at where Jim and the other District 4 tributes were practising throwing spears at dummies. Molly caught his gaze and looked over her shoulder as Jim rammed a spear through the dummy's torso.

"Did some of the other tributes threaten you?" she asked turning her attention back to Sherlock.

Sherlock began fiddling with a piece of wire in his hands trying to form a snare. "The opposite actually."

Molly put down what she was working with before asking "what do you mean opposite?"

"The boy with the slicked back hair asked me to be his ally."

Molly turned around again to study Jim and the others as they laughed whilst tearing apart a dummy. "Ally?" she said.

"Yeah," said Sherlock finally managing to form a suitable know with the wire. "An ally you know like an associate, a partner a-

"I know what the word means Sherlock," said Molly sharply picking back up the blade and stick. "So what did you tell him?" she asked coldly.

"Tell him?"

"Yes Sherlock tell him are you joining him or?"

"I hadn't decided yet," said Sherlock abandoning the snare.

"Oh, right," said Molly not dropping her cold tone. "Well when you do decide be a dear and let me know."

Sherlock was getting a bit sick of her frosty tone. "What's it to you anyway? What does it matter to you if I team up with him or not?"

"To me?" asked Molly her iciness cracking slightly. "Well honestly Sherlock I thought we were going to team up together in the arena. I thought we were getting on well I thought we-

"You thought we were going to survive without a scratch and live happily ever after move back to 12 where we'd be hailed heroes and fall in love, get married and have children?" added Sherlock venomously. "Molly this isn't about idealist little fantasies it's the bloody Hunger Games! There's no such thing as a happy ending."

"What Sherlock?" said Molly aghast. "I never said I thought about you like that I-

"Oh please," said Sherlock coldly. "Anyone only has to take one look at you and it's obvious you've allowed your heart to rule your head. If you've entered these Games looking for romance you've come to the wrong place."

Molly pushed her chair back loudly. "You can be such a dickhead Sherlock," she said. Her icy persona had been dropped completely and she was trying to hold back tears. "A complete and utter dickhead."

With that she pushed past Sherlock and headed towards the elevator.

An attendant rushed forward. "Miss Hooper the training session isn't over yet!" she called.

"It is for me!" yelled back Molly. "Stuff your bloody training session!"

Sherlock watched as Molly left the training centre and only when she was gone did he lean heavily against the desk in front of him. He ran his hands through his curly hair and growled. "Idiot," he said under his breath berating himself. "You're a fucking idiot Sherlock."

Sherlock exhaled deeply and stared up at the ceiling. The room was made of glass and looked out to the bright cloudless sky outside. As a flock of birds flew overhead Sherlock sighed. "Smooth move Sherlock," he told himself. "Piss off your only friend." At that moment Sherlock felt it wouldn't be a tragedy if he were to drop dead there and then. "Fucking Hunger Games," he hissed angrily as he turned his attention back to the snare but all interest in making the trap had left him.

**Leaving it here for now. Toodles :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys, I have the next chapter here for you! I hope you enjoy it. We'll be entering the Games soon. *Evil laugh* **

**Disclaimer: Not mine. **

The rest of the evening went by quickly. Molly didn't return for the training nor did she come down for dinner. Sherlock felt hollow; normally he wouldn't care when he knew he'd hurt other people's feelings, which was one of the main reasons why he'd ended up with a black eye and fat lip so often in school... However getting the silent treatment and being ignored by Molly proved to be more painful then a punch to the face and Sherlock hated her for it. Stupid sentiment...

Sherlock only picked at his dinner and ignored Kinsa and Henry as they boasted to Mycroft and Jennifer Wilson about how much they'd learned at the training centre.

"And what about you Sherlock?" asked Mycroft seemingly as interested in Kinsa and Henry's bragging as Sherlock was.

"What about me?" asked Sherlock pushing a piece of chicken around his plate.

"What did you do in the training centre?" Jennifer Wilson asked.

"He had a fight with his girlfriend that's what," said Kinsa in a sneering tone as Henry laughed into his dinner at her comments.

Sherlock cut the younger teens a look. "Definitely killing them first," he thought to himself.

"You had a fight in the training centre?" asked Jennifer putting down her cutlery.

"You have a girlfriend?" asked Mycroft shocked.

Sherlock pushed back from the table dramatically letting his chair crash to the floor. "She's not my girlfriend!" he barked.

"Well not after you blew it this afternoon anyway," sniggered Henry.

Sherlock saw red. He was sick of the way the younger contestants had been talking to him. Before anyone could stop him Sherlock tore Henry from his chair and pined him against the wall.

"Sherlock!" snapped Mycroft jumping up from his seat.

"Molly Hooper is not nor was she my girlfriend okay?" hissed Sherlock. "And talk to me like that again and the Hunger Games will be the least of your worries... do you understand?"

Henry simply squirmed under Sherlock's grasp and the taller teen slammed him up against the wall once more.

"Sherlock enough!" scolded Mycroft as he tried to pull his brother off Henry.

"I said," snarled Sherlock. "Do. You. Understand?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Henry embarrassedly. "It's crystal clear."

Sherlock smiled. "Good," he said in a monotone before throwing Henry away from himself. "I'm not hungry anymore," said Sherlock moving away from the others. "I'm going to my room."

As Sherlock walked away from the room Henry called after him. "You're a fucking psychopath!"

Sherlock stopped and turned around. "High functioning sociopath, with a hit list," he said in a drawl. Sherlock broke into a threatening smile "And Henry, you're name is top of my list... laters!"

Sherlock trudged up the stairs and stopped at Molly's room. He put his hand out to knock on her door but stopped himself. What exactly was he going to say? Sorry? For what exactly? "Sorry I spoke the truth and you ran off?" Sherlock scoffed. Besides it wasn't as if he was going to run in there and tell her he'd team up with her for the Games because well... He wasn't sure yet... Honestly until Jim had brought up the idea of an alliance Sherlock had just figured he'd wander the Games alone until someone picked him off. He never considered actually working alongside someone.

Sherlock backed away from Molly's door without knocking and walked over to his own room closing the door silently behind himself. He hopped into the armchair of which was placed beside the fireplace and folded himself into it before entering his Mind Palace and allowing himself to succumb completely to his innermost thoughts. He needed to decide how he was going to play these Games...

* * *

Molly remained distant from Sherlock the next day. He tried to talk to her once or twice at different training stations but she either ignored him or gave him one-word answers in response. Realising he'd been beaten Sherlock decided to leave her be and train by himself.

He wandered around aimlessly for a bit before decided to work on the berry and vegetation identification table. He was pretty sure he knew it all already from having studied the textbooks with Molly but a little more practice couldn't hurt.

Sherlock was on his own taking quizzes on the different kinds of berries and plants that could make an appearance in the Games when he was aware of someone else working at the table. He looked up to see John scratching his head whilst trying to spot the difference between nightlock and blueberries.

"Left," said Sherlock.

John looked up. "Sorry?"

"The ones on the left are nightlock," said Sherlock.

John nodded and looked back at the berries unsure. "Really I thought the ones on the right-

"Common misconception," answered Sherlock still flying through his own quiz. "Everyone thinks nightlock are the darker berry because of the name... nightlock. However blueberries are in fact darker and also larger." Sherlock entered the last answer into his computer and a 100% score flashed up on his screen. He smirked before looking back towards John. "Trust me."

John bit his lip and considered this for a moment. The Games hadn't started yet so technically Sherlock wasn't trying to kill him... Well yet anyway. But why would he offer help? John looked at the berries again and back towards Sherlock. Something in the curly haired teens eyes told John he wasn't lying. Sure what did he have to lose...

John entered that the left were nightlock.

His computer screen lit up. "Correct!"

John smiled. "Thank you."

Sherlock returned the smile. "No problem. Wouldn't want to die from berry poisoning myself. Rather hateful way to go don't you think?"

John nodded ruefully. "At least it'd be quick."

Sherlock shrugged. "That is true." Sherlock increased the difficulty in the quiz settings and started testing his knowledge again.

John watched him for a moment. "So," he began unsure of himself. "Is there a good berry and plant trade in 12? Your knowledge is quite good."

Sherlock smiled. "Nope," he said popping the p in nope. "I just did my research."

"Research?" asked John. "How? We were never taught in school about how to identify between nightlock and blueberries."

Sherlock opened his mouth to tell John about the textbooks and journals that were in his bedroom but stopped himself. If John hadn't noticed the books why should he point them out? Maybe the books weren't in everyone's rooms or maybe everyone had different books or maybe John just hadn't bothered looking at them... All Sherlock knew was despite the fact John seemed like a nice person they weren't and couldn't be friends. John had a girlfriend of whom he was obviously going to team up with in the Games so John and Mary's survival counted on Sherlock's death... Sherlock suddenly regretted telling the other boy the difference between nightlock and blueberries...

"We studied vegetation and edible forest plants and berries in school... Perhaps our Districts teach different curriculums," lied Sherlock not looking at John as he spoke.

John cocked an eyebrow at the other boy. He still wasn't sure what to make of this Sherlock Holmes character. He could be so vivid in descriptions and details about things he knew but then so vague about other things. John dismissed it telling himself that of course he couldn't expect a total stranger to tell him his life story, especially a total stranger he'd technically be trying to kill in a couple of days...

After scoring another faultless score on his quiz Sherlock smiled. "I think that's enough of quizzes for now," he said to John who was still answering questions. Sherlock wasn't sure why he told John this but he just felt it would be rude to get up and leave the station without saying something to the other boy. John smiled weakly and gave him a curt nod. "Okay," he said. "See you around."

Sherlock nodded. "Yeah, see you around," he reiterated. Sherlock turned to walk away. But John called him back.

"Eh Sherlock?" said John nervously. "Thanks for the help with the berries."

Sherlock just raised an eyebrow. "Em no problem."

John laughed awkwardly and looked around the room. "I can't believe forty-six of us will be dead in a few weeks," he said gesturing around the crowds or tributes.

Sherlock gave John a sombre look. "A morbid but granted a very sound deduction John," he said. "There's nothing we can do about that now though... We just have to fight the good fight and see what happens I suppose."

John gave Sherlock a saddened look. "I know I just...

"Just what?"

"I don't want to change," said John. The blond dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. Why was he saying this... He hadn't even told Mary this... She wouldn't understand but there was something about this awkward looking boy in front of him that told him Sherlock would understand him. "I don't want to become some deranged killer, just another pawn in the Capitol's Games... I just want to stay me."

"Everyone changes John," said Sherlock after a long pause. "Sometimes for the better... sometimes for the worse and sometimes we change simply out of necessity. I think our current situation is of the latter."

"I know but-

"John listen," said Sherlock who was beginning to feel awkward having such a conversation with someone he didn't know. "Theses Games will change us. It would be ignorant of us to say they won't but as long as you remain true to yourself, as long as you can live with yourself then no matter what happens you will beat the Games. The Capitol does not own you."

John contemplated Sherlock's words for a moment, running them through his head. It made sense, it didn't necessarily make him feel better but it made sense...

"Thanks," said John. "I think I needed to hear that."

Sherlock just nodded awkwardly as he looked over to the shooting range and noticing Mary was glaring at him. If looks could kill Sherlock would be dead before even entering the arena...

John followed Sherlock's eye line and spotted Mary. "I better get back to Mary," he said ruefully. "Listen Sherlock thanks," he added walking towards the curly haired teen and extending a hand.

Sherlock smiled weakly and shook John's hand.

"Best of luck in the Games Sherlock," said John tightening his grip on Sherlock's hand. "Mind with your knowledge and shooting skills I don't think you'll need luck I think I'm the one who needs the help!"

Sherlock grinned. "May the odds be ever in your favour," said Sherlock in a singsong tone mocking the Capitol accent.

John smiled sadly before heading over towards Mary. Sherlock stood up straight and put his hands in his pockets. He glanced around at the other contestants and not for the first time it struck him just how young everyone was. His conversation with John made him see the evilness of the situation even more clearly. Every single one of the contestants was still in school or still living with their parents. Hell some of them had only just turned twelve. It was terrible to expect kids to face death in the eye and kill other children just like themselves to survive. Yes, Henry and Kinsa annoyed Sherlock to an extreme but although he'd imagined killing them actually plunging a blade through Henry's chest was another thing... This wasn't even war, it was murder... Something needed to change and Sherlock felt he knew exactly how to change it...

Sherlock sprinted over to the weight lifting area and pushed his way past some of the other tributes before he spotted who he was looking for.

"Jim," Sherlock panted finally catching up to the black haired boy from District 4. "Do you still want to be partners?"

The brown-eyed teen smiled. "I knew you weren't ordinary Sherlock," he said extending his hand to Sherlock to shake. "I think this might be the start of a beautiful friendship.

**Stopping here for now. 'Til next time! Toodles. ;)**


	8. Chapter 8

**It's been a few days since my last update, sorry! I was waiting for exam results and everything went a little crazy. I did pass though so hurray :L I don't have to repeat anything so more time for writing... Happy days! Here's the next chapter. We should definitely be entering the Games in the next chapter so until then. **

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

After telling Jim he'd partner up with him in the arena the rest of the day flew for Sherlock. Dinner was rather uneventful as none of the contestants spoke to each other and the only conversation was between Mycroft and Jennifer Wilson as they discussed the wine that was served at the table. It felt like no time then that Sherlock found himself and Molly sitting alone in the waiting area for their individual performance assessments by the Game Makers.

The teens sat in silence for a while, Sherlock studied a beetle that was crawling over his boots, as Molly seemed to gain a sudden interest in looking at her fingernails. She finally looked up at gave Sherlock a sad look. "You decided to join him then," she said.

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow. "Jim? Yeah..." Sherlock shuffled his feet and watched as the beetle crawled from one of his shoes to the other. "It seemed like the logical thing to do. I studied him at the training sessions he's very skilled at combat and obviously quite intelligent."

Molly looked back at her nails. "Are you sure you can trust him?"

Sherlock raised his head and looked towards the ceiling. "I don't think we can truly trust anyone in our situation Molly."

"Yeah I know but do you think-

"Do I think he might just stab me in the back as soon as the Games begin?" asked Sherlock. "Well it's a possibility but there was something about him... He seems crazy but... I felt as if I could trust him."

"You're cleverer than him you know," said Molly.

"Again," said Sherlock with a smirk. "Another sound deduction."

"You're also a dickhead," said Molly.

"Well I suppose it'd be unrealistic to expect you to make two good deductions in a row."

Molly gave Sherlock a playful shrug. "I think it was a pretty fine judgement call actually."

Sherlock smiled. "I'll take your word for it."

"Sherlock listen," said Molly. "About the other day I-

"Don't apologise... I was perhaps slightly rude."

"Slightly?" asked Molly.

"Okay maybe a lot rude," said Sherlock.

"Okay so how about if we're both sorry and we both forgive each other?" asked Molly.

"I think that's more than fair," said Sherlock.

Before they could say anything else a Peacekeeper entered the room and called Sherlock for his private session in front of the Game Makers.

* * *

As soon as Sherlock entered the training area he realised things weren't going to go well. The Game Makers were sitting in a balcony area above him but they hadn't even noticed he'd entered the room. They were too busy supping wine and clunking glasses to notice anybody else's presence. Sherlock exhaled deeply through his nose and tried to suppress his anger and focus on the task at hand.

Sherlock walked over to the archery section and loaded a bow with an arrow. He looked at the targets, picked one of the dummies, took aim and fired striking the humanoid shaped canvas sack were the eye would be. Sherlock smirked at his performance and looked up at the Game Makers just to see they hadn't been looking at him at all.

The anger flared up in Sherlock and before he even thought about what he was doing he reloaded his bow aimed at the wine glass in the Head Game Maker's hand and fired.

The sound of shattering glass echoed in the training centre and all the Game Makers yelped in surprise before leaning heavily over the balcony open-mouthed at the rebellious teen that had just fired a bow at them.

"Sorry to spoil the fun," said Sherlock in a sneer throwing the bow to the floor giving a mocking salute and striding from the room without a second glance at the still shocked Game Makers.

* * *

Sherlock didn't tell Mycroft what had happened in the training session after the scolding he'd received after threatening to shoot at President Smallwood he didn't want to think what Mycroft would do if he learned he'd actually fired at the Game Makers. There were some things that were better left unsaid.

Sherlock, Molly, Kinsa and Henry sat together awkwardly on the small couch in the lounge area as Mycroft and Jennifer Wilson hovered in the background. Sherlock zoned out as the presenters rambled on and on about useless trivia about the contestants and crap about when the final interviews would take place before finally getting on to the results...

Sherlock gave a nod of approval as John's face appeared on the screen with a large number 8 beside his name, a very respectable score. Mary scored a 10, which came as no surprise to Sherlock as from what he'd seen she was absolutely ruthless. The rest of the careers scored 8's or 9's and then came in Jim with a score of 11. Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at this. He'd definitely chosen a strong ally for sure... Jim's friends from 4 also scored highly before the scores slowly seemed to lower as they went through the poorer districts. The next highest score was a 9 for a boy from 7 called Greg Lestrade who despite his young age already had specks of grey in his hair. Finally after about ten minutes of scrutinising the other contestants scores the District 12 results were finally in...

Kinsa scored a 6 and seemed disappointed although Sherlock felt it was 6 points more than the kid deserved. Henry scored a 7. Then Molly... a 9.

"Well done," whispered Sherlock giving Molly a gentle shrove. "I'll be careful around you in the arena."

"And finally our last tribute," spoke the presenter. "Mr. Sherlock Holmes of District 12 scored a... 12!"

Sherlock shot up from the couch. "What?"

"Oh my God darling," said Jennifer Wilson trotting towards Sherlock in her high heels and throwing her arms around him. "Congratulations Sherlock! You're the first tribute to score a 12 in the history of the Games!"

Sherlock simply nodded. He didn't know what to say. Honestly he'd been expecting to score a zero or something ridiculous like that after what he'd done earlier.. But a 12? That was insane...

"Sherlock can I speak to you for a moment," said Mycroft walking towards the door.

"Sure emm okay," said Sherlock awkwardly breaking out of Jennifer Wilson's embrace and following his brother out of the room.

Sherlock had no more walked from the room before Mycroft pushed him against the wall. "What did you do?" asked his brother sternly.

Sherlock gave Mycroft a cold look. He wasn't too sure of what to say. "I impressed the Game Makers," he said finally. I thought that was obvious even to you My-

"No Sherlock," said Mycroft. "Nobody gets 12s nobody. Don't you understand?"

Sherlock didn't answer but he had a feeling he knew what Mycroft was going to say...

"Everyone's going to be the one who wants to take the star player down," said Mycroft. "You obviously pissed them off Sherlock. They may as well have pinned a neon sign to your shirt saying 'KILL ME!'"

Sherlock lowered his head. "I-

"What did you do?"

"I may or may not have fired an arrow at the Game Makers..."

Mycroft cursed under his breath. "You always think you're so clever don't you? Don't you? Well brother mine you'll truly messed it up this time. You'll be lucky to last five minutes in the arena!"

"Your kind words really do fill me with confidence Mycroft."

Mycroft cut Sherlock a look before stepping away from his brother. Mycroft stood with one hand on his hip and pinched the bridge of his nose with his other hand. "Get out of my sight Sherlock," he said finally. "I don't want to look at you anymore tonight."

Sherlock sighed and went to walk down the corridor. "Well if your predictions are right brother mine you won't have to look at me for much longer... Goodnight Mycroft."

* * *

Sherlock kept to himself for the majority of the following day. When Jennifer Wilson and his brother came to collect him to prep him for the interviews he pretended he was sick and ignored them. In fact Sherlock didn't leave his room until it was time to meet Mrs. Hudson and get ready for the interviews. He just didn't want to talk or see anyone. If Mycroft was right and Sherlock hated to admit it but he usually was, Sherlock was going to be number one on everyone's hit list and would most likely be dead five minutes after the Games began...

Mrs. Hudson didn't go overboard with how she styled Sherlock for the interviews. She wanted to keep everything simple and just make Sherlock look normal. She dressed him in black slacks, plain black laced shoes, a long sleeved purple dress shirt and she put no product in his hair, she just allowed his curls to stay as they were. Sherlock smiled at his reflection in the mirror in the waiting room before going onto the interview stage and was happy with what he seen. "Thank you Mrs. Hudson," he said. "I really like this look."

Mrs. Hudson smiled warmly. "You're very welcome dear," she said in a motherly tone. "I just thought purple would be your colour. It really suits you. It brings out the colour in those magnificent eyes of yours."

Sherlock blushed. "Thank you," he said again.

"Whoa," said a voice behind him. "Sherlock you look amazing!"

Sherlock turned to see Molly had entered the room behind him. He gasped. She looked stunning. She was dressed in a black dress, which emphasised her small waist and truly looked beautiful on her. She was wearing high heeled but sensible shoes and her hair was put into a side braid similar to how she wore it for the Opening Ceremony.

"You look beautiful," said Sherlock truthfully. "Really."

Molly smiled blushing slightly. "You're not looking to bad yourself Sherlock... I'm loving the purple."

Sherlock gave her a cocky smile. "I'm thinking of calling it my purple shirt of sex," he said smugly.

Molly snorted before bursting into a laughter fit. "Oh, Sherlock!"

"I'll choose not to be insulted," said Sherlock smiling at Molly's laughter.

"I think you're in look Sherlock," said Molly composing herself. "Maybe you'll just have to wink at the other contestants swoon them to death."

Sherlock chuckled. "If only."

"Why Holmes don't you scrub up well?" said Jim coming over towards Sherlock.

Molly made a quiet excuse and walked away from the two boys, Sherlock's face dropped slightly. He didn't want her to go.

Sherlock only half listened as Jim told him the plans for the following morning, Jim was basically just saying that they'd make it to the cornucopia with the other tributes from 4, defend it, take what they needed and then start picking everyone else off... Nothing overly complicated, that was if Mycroft's theory of Sherlock lasting less than five minutes turned out to be false.

Jim noticed Sherlock wasn't really listening to him and followed the curly haired boy's eye line to see he was staring at Molly who was currently talking to the other tributes from her district.

"You're not having second thoughts are you Sherlock?" asked Jim. "Because if you're going to turn against me do it now."

Sherlock licked his lips and looked back towards Molly. His heart was telling him to side with Molly, fight alongside her and win this with her but... no sentiment was a chemical defect... a chemical defect...

"No," said Sherlock defiantly. "No second thoughts, sorry just got distracted... What were you saying about the cornucopia?"

* * *

About an hour later the interviews were well underway. Sherlock had particularly paid attention to John, Mary and Jim's interviews but only half listened to the others. He learned that John had been studying to become a doctor before he had been reaped and that he and Mary had been dating for a year at college. Jim came across as rather aloof in his interview and it was hard to tell if he was lying or telling the truth to most of the questions he was asked... Whenever Jim gave a vague answer Molly looked across at Sherlock as if to say "Are you really going to team up with this bastard?"

By the time it was Molly's turn to give an interview the crowd were getting bored. Molly would have to say something extremely interesting to get their attention. Caesar Flickerman the eccentric blue haired presenter welcomed her to the stage like a celebrity and he made a comment about her dress and Molly did a girlish twirl to show off the dress much to the delight of the seemingly revived crowd. Molly had that ability of making people instantly like her because of her sweet and innocent character.

"So now Molly," said Caesar getting down to business. "How are you tonight?"

Molly gave a nervous smile. "I'm okay," she said.

"Only okay?" asked Flickerman.

"Well I'm hardly here on a holiday Caesar," said Molly dropping the sweet girl act for a moment.

Caesar tried to shake off the awkwardness with a laugh. "Oh a sassy one!"

Molly rolled her eyes and put on a fake laugh. "Well I didn't score a 9 in training sessions by twirling in a dress Caesar!"

Sherlock chuckled to himself as the crowd whooped and cheered at Molly's answer.

"Oh I bet you didn't Molly," said Caesar. "I think we have a fierce character behind the girlish good looks."

Molly smirked and said a line Sherlock felt she must have been told to say. "I can guarantee you this kitten has claws."

"Oooooooooooooh," squealed Caesar leading the crowd. "Do tell us more Molly!"

"Well I think anyone who can get an apology off Sherlock Holmes is a force to be reckoned with," said Molly with a smile.

Sherlock was shocked by Molly mentioning him and only realised he looked dumbstruck when he seen on the screens that the cameras had moved focus onto him.

Caesar raised an eyebrow. "Do you and Sherlock..." he began taking a dramatic pause. "Get on well?"

Molly smiled knowingly and played the audience. "My lips are sealed," she said.

Caesar returned her smile. "Well maybe we can hear from the man himself then!" he said. "It was lovely speaking to you Molly and I wish you the very best in the arena but now it's time to bring on our last guest of the evening and I believe the one tribute you've all been waiting to hear from... Sherlock Holmes!"

Sherlock was still blushing slightly from Molly's interview as he took his place on stage and shook hands with Caesar. However he managed to recover quickly and sat comfortably with one leg folded beneath himself to show he felt relaxed and carefree... Or at least he hoped that's how he looked.

"Well, well, well Mr. Holmes," began Caesar. "You've been the talk of the Captiol since the opening ceremony, what do you think of that?"

"It must be a very slow news week," replied Sherlock with a cheeky grin. Sherlock remembered Mycroft's words of come across as likeable... He didn't usually take Mycroft's advice but his older brother was much better versed in public speaking and interviews than he was so maybe for once Mycroft was right.

The crowd laughed at Sherlock's answer and the teen felt himself release a sigh of relief.

"Now Sherlock," said Caesar. "We're going to have to talk about your little stunt at the opening ceremony."

Sherlock eyed the crowd nervously and spotted Mycroft who was cutting him a death glare. "She looked a little bored," said Sherlock speaking honestly.

Caesar gave a booming fake laugh. "Well she most definitely wasn't bored when you arrived!"

Sherlock grinned. "Mission complete."

The crowd laughed uneasily as if they weren't too sure if they should respond to Sherlock's answer or not.

"Well then moving on," said Flickerman trying to change the subject. "You scored a 12 in the training session. The first contestant in the history of the Hunger Games to do so... I think the question on everyone's lips is HOW?"

Sherlock chuckled and looked back up at Caesar. "Now that would be telling."

The crowd cheered and clapped. They seemed to like the mysteriousness of Sherlock's answers.

"Understandable, understandable," said Caesar. "But if you win will you tell us?"

Sherlock's cheekbones were beginning to hurt from all this fake smiling. "Of course," he said with a grin.

"Okay Sherlock, okay one last question," said Caesar.

"What's going on with you and Molly?"

The crowd whooped and cheered once more. Sherlock was starting to think that they must all be held at gunpoint and risked a bullet through the skull if they didn't applaud every single sentence.

"She's," began Sherlock but he suddenly wasn't sure how to finish the sentence. Girlfriend was obviously wrong; friend would just sound dull, best friend? What age was he 7? Best friend just sounded insanely childish...

"Sherlock I'm going to have to push you for an answer," said Caesar smiling broadly.

"She's a really..." Sherlock paused and licked his lips. "She's a really special person, she's smart and kind and I think she feels I don't think much of her, that she doesn't count, but... But, well she does count, she's always counted and I've always trusted her... And I want her to know that no matter what happens in these Games that I think she's special and I'll always remember what she meant to me."

The crowd remained silent and Sherlock felt nervous... That was the first time they hadn't applauded a tribute all night... Had he said something wrong? The silence was deafening...

"Whoa Sherlock," said Caesar. "That was beautiful. Beautiful. I think I speak for everyone in the audience when I say we wish you and Molly the very best of luck in the Games... SHERLOCK HOLMES EVERYONE!" Shouted Caesar as the crowd cheered loudly for Sherlock once more.

**Toodles ;)**


	9. Chapter 9

**And we have finally reached the Games! *Collective sigh of FINALLY* Righteo so characters will soon start to be killed off. Just a reminder, that in my version of the Games forty-eight contestants are taking part in the contest. So yeah... lots of death :L **

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

It was 3am and Sherlock sat alone in his pyjamas and the coat he'd worn to the opening ceremony on the roof of the training centre. Despite the time the festivities in the Capitol had not ceased and fireworks illuminated the night sky in bursts of red and blue. Sherlock was very aware of every beat of his heart fully aware that this may very well be his last night on earth. He sighed and leaned heavily against the wall behind him as another resounding boom of a firework flashed in the sky.

He heard the door to the roof open and shut quietly behind him as Molly walked over to him wrapping her dressing gown around herself tightly. "Hey," she said.

"Hey."

Molly sat crossed legged on the floor and readjusted her dressing gown around herself once more. "What are you doing up here?" she asked.

"I wanted to see the stars," said Sherlock. "You know, one last time... Might not get a chance to see stars again but the city lights are too bright..."

"Oh," said Molly simply. She was unsure of how to react to this. It was so simple yet so tragic a thought. She hadn't really considered she might never see stars again... "Never would have figured you for much of a star gazer," she said finally.

Sherlock smiled ruefully. "Nor did I, the heart wants what it can't have I suppose."

"It might be better you know," she said. "Dying quickly. Part of me just wants to jump from the podium before the countdown hits... I'd be blown up and dead like that," she clicked her fingers to emphasise her point. "It'd be easier. I wouldn't have to kill anyone or see anyone else be killed or give anyone the opportunity to kill me."

Sherlock wanted to tell Molly she was wrong. He wanted to tell her that allowing herself to be blown up wasn't the right answer but he couldn't. He'd considered it himself sure. It would be a lot easier.

"Please don't do that," he said. "Your appendix might come up and hit me in the head. I'd hate to get Molly Hooper insides on my hair."

Molly gave a small laugh. "Oh that would be a shame alright."

The two remained quiet for a moment and watched the fireworks. "Did you mean what you said earlier?" Molly asked. "In the interview?"

Sherlock simply nodded. "Of course I did... I know I said I'll work with Jim in the arena but that doesn't mean I don't... that I don't..."

Before Sherlock could finish his sentence Molly leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips.

Sherlock tensed at this sudden embrace but before he could fully react Molly had already pulled away. "You're a good man Sherlock," she said. "Don't apologise for teaming with Jim okay? If you think by teaming with him you've a better chance at surviving then do it. I'd rather die and let you live than bring you down with me okay?"

Sherlock furrowed his brow. "Molly I-

"No don't," said Molly putting her finger on Sherlock's lips. "You mean a lot to me Sherlock and I know if you win this you could do things that I could never do... You'd use your winnings to help our District and work hard to abolish the Games. You need to win Sherlock and if my dying can help the greater cause than so be it. Work with Jim if he wants what you want... But just know that I am always there for you and if you need me, I'm there."

Molly leant forward and kissed Sherlock once more on the forehead. "Good night Sherlock," she said simply standing up rewrapping her dressing gown around herself and leaving Sherlock alone once more.

Sherlock watched her leave and sighed as we once more felt he'd made the wrong choice about teaming up with Jim...

* * *

Sherlock only got an hour or two sleep in the end and found himself yawning repeatedly as he and Mycroft waited for the lift to activate which would bring Sherlock into the arena. Neither brother really knew what to say to each other.

"Don't you dare touch any of my stuff," said Sherlock finally breaking the silence. "I know I don't believe in ghosts but I will personally come back and haunt you if you touch any of my things."

Mycroft shook his head. "I don't find you threatening in life Sherlock nor will I in death."

"Spoil sport."

The two brothers laughed ruefully. Suddenly the capsule which would raise Sherlock into the arena opened and a thirty-second timer began. Sherlock gulped as his heart skipped a beat and he took a step forward. It was time.

Before Sherlock could reach the capsule Mycroft pulled him backwards and pulled him into an awkward hug. "Win this," said Mycroft into Sherlock's ear. "For me... please Sherlock, win this. Your loss would break my heart. Win this."

Sherlock was dumbstruck; Mycroft never spoke like this... Never... Even when their parents died Mycroft hadn't so much as shed a tear but now...

Mycroft released Sherlock from the hug and gave him a curt nod. "For me, win this," he said one last time.

Sherlock gave him a small smile before walking into the capsule as the time hit zero. "Goodbye Mycroft."

* * *

The podium rose up from the ground and the bright light of the sun temporarily blinded Sherlock as his eyes slowly adjusted to the arena. He looked around quickly, about one hundred yards in front of him was the cornucopia, surrounded by a large array of weaponry and camping supplies. Sherlock focused on a bow and sheath of arrows near the cornucopia's mouth. "Mine," he mouthed.

The countdown began and it was down to the last sixty seconds before the bloodbath would begin. Sherlock studied the arena. There was a large mountainous cliffy area to his right with a waterfall that led down into a river with fresh flowing water.

A thick wood seemed to encase the arena running from beyond the cliffy area around, what Sherlock presumed was the whole perimeter of the arena. The only clear area seemed to be from where the contestants were currently standing to the cornucopia and then the river, everywhere else was covered in trees and shrubbery.

The countdown was nearly over. Sherlock braced himself and had one last look at his fellow tributes; his plan was to run to the cornucopia with Jim and the other contestants from 4 who Jim had introduced him to before the interviews last night. Their names were Sebastian a rat faced boy who looked very untrusting of Sherlock, Gollum who was so tall and burly looking Sherlock was sure the chap was in fact the missing link and Irene a girl who was obviously used to getting her own way by using her looks. The five of them together should make it...

Sherlock met eyes with Molly. She gave him a weary smile. "Good luck," she mouthed as the claxon blared and the Games began.

The small interaction with Molly caused Sherlock to hesitate and it took a moment for him to register that the claxon had rung out, Sherlock finally broke out of his trance and began running towards the cornucopia.

He noticed a backpack on the ground beside him as he ran and picked it up roughly without stopping. A large boy who was either from District 6 or 7 came charging at Sherlock. Sherlock instinctively swung the backpack around hitting the boy in the head hard, the contents of the bag were heavy and the boy was thrown off balance, Sherlock took his chance and ran from the other boy.

He glanced around him quickly, he had lost Molly in the confusion, and he knew he wasn't allying up with her but still... He looked over towards the woods and seen the back of Molly run away and hide in amongst the trees. Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief before focusing on the cornucopia once more. He could see that Jim and Sebastian had made it to the cornucopia and were already slashing and stabbing any tribute that came near them with their large machetes.

Sherlock ducked and avoided a flying penknife that was hurtling towards him before finally hitting the cornucopia. He made a grab for the bow instantly loading it with an arrow and then looked around the surrounding area.

"Sherlock!" yelled Jim as he tore his blade through the chest of one of the girl's from 5. "Man the other side of the cornucopia, make sure nobody takes anything."

Sherlock scowled, he didn't like being ordered about but he simply nodded and did what he was told.

Sherlock ran around to the other side of the cornucopia and took in the area. It seemed deserted at first glance but then...

Sherlock looked over as he heard a rustling and then a strangled cry. He watched as the same boy from 7 who he'd hit with the backpack tackled the blond boy, John, from District 1 to the ground and began choking him.

John cried out huskily in a panic as his airways were cut off. Sherlock bit his lip... For some reason he didn't want to see John die like this, Sherlock went to walk back the way he came to leave the boy from 7 and John to their death struggle before thinking against it. Without giving a second thought Sherlock took aim with his bow, focused and slowed his heart rate and fired, sending an arrow straight through the skull of the boy from 7.

John gasped as the boy from 7 collapsed down beside him and he could breathe again. John scrambled away from the boy and looked up at Sherlock. He raised his hands up in the air to show he wasn't armed.

Sherlock scoffed. "Oh please," he said. "I won't shoot you."

John lowered his arms, unsure of himself. "Why?"

Sherlock didn't answer. Instead he just gestured towards the weaponry between them. "Take something okay? Just take something and run, all right?"

John didn't move he just stared at Sherlock. Sherlock released a frustrated sigh. He bent down picked up a British Army _Browning_ L9A1 and a small case of bullets and ran over and handed them to John.

"Take them," he said simply.

John was still hesitant. "Why?"

"Do you want to live?" barked Sherlock.

John licked his lips before nodding yes.

"Then take them," said Sherlock. "Just do one thing for me first."

"What?" asked John still eying the gun and bullets in his hand and confused as to why Sherlock would want to help him. This was different than the training sessions. Sherlock had no way of knowing whether or not he'd just load the gun and shoot him between the eyes there and then.

"Punch me in the face," said Sherlock rolling back his shoulders and staring at John.

"What?" asked John even more confused now.

"Punch me in the face," said Sherlock again glancing around as he could hear the sound of Jim's laughter. "If they think I just let you leave with a weapon without putting up a fight they'll kill me but if they think you just got the drop on me then we can both get out of this."

John furrowed his brow before sighing and connecting his fist sharply with Sherlock's cheek causing the teen to fall backwards heavily.

Sherlock groaned, he'd bitten the inside of his cheek from the impact and blood filled his mouth. "That's quite enough now John," he grumbled disdainfully. "Run!"

"Thank you," said John as he began stumbling backwards towards the woods. You saved my life and I punched you in the face, doesn't exactly seem fair does it?"

Sherlock grinned a trickle of blood running down his chin. "Don't think of it just leave now, while you still can... run!"

John gave Sherlock one last nod and thanks before racing off towards the woods.

Sherlock pulled himself up from the ground and made his way back around towards the others. The bloodbath had quietened down now. He stopped when he seen the carnage. There were bodies everywhere. Sherlock spotted the blooded form of Kinsa on the ground near the podiums; she hadn't made it far at all. He didn't see Henry or Molly so he guessed they must have made it out. There were nine other bodies on the ground plus the boy from 7 that Sherlock had taken out, so eleven dead altogether. Sherlock grimaced the Capitol would have been entertained anyway.

Jim jumped down from the cornucopia and landed gracefully beside Sherlock. "We'll stay here tonight," he said. "Gather all the good stuff, maybe leave traps for the others and go hunting tomorrow, the other tributes don't stand a chance."

Sherlock simply nodded.

Jim looked up at him. "What happened your face?"

"Oh one of the boys from 1 or maybe it was 3 jumped me, he just came out of nowhere," lied Sherlock.

Jim studied him, he didn't seem to believe Sherlock's story however he didn't question it either. "Remind me again how you got a 12 in the training scores?" he sneered.

"Well somebody loves you," said Irene walking around the cornucopia towards him. Strands of hair had fallen from her high ponytail and framed her face; the strands were dyed crimson with blood. "If I had to punch that face, I'd avoid your nose and teeth too," she said touching the cut on Sherlock's cheek. "Those cheekbones Sherl," she purred. "I'd say you sliced through his fist."

Sherlock blushed slightly at Irene's touch. He felt awkward around this girl. "We've a lot of medical supplies here now," she said taking Sherlock's hand and leading him towards a large stone by the cornucopia and forcing him to sit down. "I'll fix you up," she whispered into his ear.

Sherlock mumbled something about being fine but Irene was already applying iodine to his cheek. "Ah," he hissed as the antiseptic stung his cut.

"Oh don't be such a child," purred Irene. "Nothing wrong with a little... sting."

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow. Irene's tone was... different. Something he wasn't used to at all...

"You look scared," she said looking into Sherlock's eyes.

Sherlock tilted his head. "Well I am facing my imminent death," he said dryly.

"Oh it's not death I think you fear Sherlock," she hummed leaning in further towards Sherlock. Tracing her finger over the outline of his face. "I think sex worries you Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock's eyes widened. "Sex doesn't alarm me," he said monotonously.

Irene smirked before pulling Sherlock towards her by his jacket front and kissing him on his cut cheek, causing him to hiss as the wound stung once more.

"How would you know?" She whispered into his ear before releasing him and walking away.

Sherlock furrowed his brow and sighed. He really didn't want to deal with this right now. Death and danger he could handle, but manipulative weird women? He'd take his chances with spear wielding fourteen year olds any day...

"Hey Holmes," called Jim as he sifted through some of the booty in the cornucopia. "Stop moping and help me find the good stuff!"

Sherlock sighed again and stood up. "Aye, aye captain," he said begrudgingly before strolling over to the others and making sure to stay well away from Irene.

* * *

Molly tripped over an exposed tree root and crashed to the forest floor in a heap. "Oof," she groaned as she tried to unsuccessfully break her fall. Luckily enough she managed not to injure herself and quickly rose to her feet once more and stood akimbo and relased a deep breath.

She's been running continuously since the claxon announcing the start of the Games rang out. She knew she wasn't much of a physical fighter and that her best chance at surviving a respectable time in these Games was to stay out of trouble for as long as possible. She'd managed to grab a small rucksack before entering the forest and decided since she was sitting for a moment's rest anyway now was as good a time as any to see what she'd managed to grab.

She huddled in deeply into a small coven of shrubs as to try and hide herself further in case other tributes were around before opening her bag. She couldn't help but smile as she seen the contents, she'd hit the jackpot...

Inside the bag was a tightly folded sleeping bag and a fleece blanket, a flashlight, a small packet of crackers, a bag of glucose sweets, a toothbrush and tube of toothpaste, a flask of water, iodine and a penknife. Not a bad haul at all.

Molly repacked everything apart from the knife, which she concealed on her belt for quick access. Molly got up quickly from out of the bush and brushed herself down and when she finally looked up she realised somebody was staring at her...

Not ten feet away from Molly stood a greyish haired boy with a spear of which he seemed ready to throw at any second. Molly gulped as it began to register with her that she might very well be looking into the eyes of the boy who was going to be the death of her.

**Going to leave it there for now. 'Til next time... toodles!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Long time no update and I apologise. I said it the first chapter that this story will be completed and it definitely will so don't worry about that! I had a bit of writer's block but I'm happier with where I am bringing the story now so let's get back to action!**

**Standard Disclaimer.**

John didn't stop running until he was well into the woods. He'd made a plan with Mary to run to the cornucopia grab what he could and then run north from the cornucopia until they found each other again. This had been a great idea last night when they'd discussed it but now that John had been running aimlessly for about twenty minutes he was starting to think they had not thought their plan out quite so well after all...

John stopped and leaned against a tree to catch his breath. He was half tempted to starting calling out to Mary but he knew this wasn't exactly the smartest thing to do. Since he was taking a break anyway he checked the gun Sherlock had thrown into his hands. He still couldn't believe the other boy had given him a gun. Why? There would have been nothing to stop John from having loaded the gun there and then and shooting the curly haired teen right between the eyes... Obviously though he couldn't do that. Not only had Sherlock given him a weapon he'd saved his life. John owed Sherlock his life. He was in debt to someone whose death depended on Mary and his survival. What a fucking mess.

"You do realise that if we want to win it probably isn't the best protocol to pant like a dog in the middle of the woods."

John almost jumped but was thankful to hear the voice of his girlfriend beside him.

"Hey," he said in a pant. "You made it out then?"

Mary put a hand on John's back. "Yup. No sweat... Are you okay?"

"Well," said John. "I was almost throttled to death but you know that curly haired kid from District 12?"

"The Freak?"

John scowled. "His name is Sherlock," he said not impressed with Mary's insults. "Well he saved my life... He shot the guy who was choking me through the skull with an arrow."

Mary furrowed her brow. "Why would he do that?"

John raised an eyebrow. "Well I'm thankful he did to be perfectly honest."

Mary just smiled. "So am I but it just seems odd that he would help you doesn't it?"

John simply shrugged. "And he gave me this," John showed Mary the case of bullets and the gun and his girlfriend gasped.

"Okay I take it back," she said. "He's not a freak, he's a fucking idiot. Why would he help you like this?"

John shrugged again. "I don't know," he admitted. "I just hate this... If it wasn't for these stupid Games... well I think we would have been friends."

Mary pursed her lips. "Well you can't be friends," she said sadly. "Come on let's find somewhere to stay the night," she said changing the subject obviously not interested in discussing Sherlock anymore.

John sighed and began to follow his girlfriend, despite what she said John made a mental note to himself that unless it was only down to Mary, Sherlock and himself he wouldn't kill the boy who saved his life... And even then he might just eat some nightlock and let the girl he loved and the boy who saved him live.

* * *

Molly could barely breathe with the fear as she looked at the grey haired boy in front of her with the spear. She all of a sudden felt sad that the city lights and fireworks meant she wasn't able to see the stars last night... She was going to die. She was going to die... The knife was burning a hole in her belt but she knew she couldn't throw it at this boy...

"Look just do it," said Molly spreading out her arms. "Just kill me already."

The boy furrowed his brow. "I don't want to kill you," he said.

Molly wasn't going to believe this for a second. "Why? This is the Hunger Games why wouldn't you want to kill me?"

"Well do you want to kill me?" he asked answering her question with a question.

Molly opened her mouth to say something but just shook her head no.

"Well then neither of us want to kill each other and two people can survive," said the boy. "So we could... we could work together if you want?"

Molly was sceptical. "How can I know I can trust you?" she asked.

"Well I think not killing you is a good start," said the boy with a smile.

Molly still wasn't sure. She remembered this boy from last night he had come across as a really nice guy in his interview but... Well part of her still believed that Sherlock would come running back for her. She dismissed this thought; she couldn't keep living in her fantasies.

She sighed. "Okay," she said extending her arm so she could shake his hand. "I'm Molly."

The boy shook her hand. "Greg."

"Nice to meet you Greg," said Molly. "And emmm thank you for not killing me I suppose."

Greg laughed. "Likewise."

* * *

By the time Sherlock and the others had collected all they wanted from the cornucopia the first of the canons sounded. Sherlock knew from pervious Games they always waited until the bloodbath had died down on the first day before firing the canons, simply because it just avoided confusion. Sherlock counted the canon eleven times. Almost a quarter of the contestants were already dead. Sherlock found this thought difficult to comprehend. Eleven of the kids he'd sat with for the interviews last night were no longer alive... It just seemed strange. Sherlock tried to ignore the idea that one of the deaths had been his kill but it was a difficult thought to shake. Sherlock busied himself with sorting through his backpack and tried not to think of it.

"Eleven dead," said Jim after he was certain no more canons would sound. "A bit dull."

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow. "Almost a quarter of the contestants are dead."

"Let's hope the other three quarters drop quickly," said Sebastian taking a bite from an apple.

Sherlock just grimaced and continued to mess around with the contents of his backpack. He wanted to ensure he's have enough to survive if he was separated from the others but not so much that the bag would be a dead weight. This task was proving to be a difficult one.

Jim stood up on a stone and yawned placing his hands on his hips. "Nobody will bother us here tonight," he said cockily. "We'll stay here and at daybreak begin our hunt."

"Oh yeah," said Sherlock a wisp of sarcasm in his voice. "Wouldn't want to kill them before they get a chance to sleep."

Irene laughed. "You've an interesting sense of humour Sherlock," she said as she moved to sit beside him.

Sherlock shuffled uncomfortably. He still wasn't sure of what to think about Irene. She was just too... too.. ugh he didn't even know how to start to describe her.

Jim watched Sherlock's awkwardness around Irene and smirked. "Missing your girlfriend Holmes?"

Sherlock's head snapped up. "Girlfriend?"

"That mousy haired thing that was palling around you?"

"Molly?" asked Sherlock. "She wasn't my ummm girlfriend."

Irene put her hand on Sherlock's arm. "So you're on the market then Sherlock?" she hissed into his ear.

Sherlock tensed at her touch. "Not really the time to discuss this don't you think?"

Irene ran her hand through Sherlock's curls. "I'll win you around Mr Holmes," she purred before standing and walking back towards her own backpack.

Jim chuckled at Sherlock's obvious discomfort. "So anyway," he began. "I think we'll make our way up there."

Sherlock looked over his shoulder to where Jim was pointing. The other boy was pointing towards the cliff and waterfall.

Irene furrowed her brow and for the first time since entering the arena she looked unsure. "Why up there?"

"Well," said Sebastian joining in the conversation. "There's a water supply, we can see our enemies coming and we won't have any blind spots."

Sherlock continued to stare at the waterfall, something was telling him this wasn't a good idea...

"So first thing tomorrow," said Jim strolling towards Sherlock and sitting down beside him. "We'll make our way up there and pick off whomever we meet on the way!"

Gollum, Irene and Sebastian just nodded knowing arguing with Jim was pointless.

Jim then leant over and whispered in Sherlock's ear. "And as soon as we reach up there we'll pick these three off and just wait for the Games to be over."

Sherlock looked at the other three before looking back at Jim, the other boy's dark eyes were positively gleaming.

Sherlock grimaced as he was again beginning to think teaming up with Jim was maybe not the best idea...

**Short chapter but I'll be back again as soon as I can. A lot more is to come :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey guys, apologies for the long wait on this chapter life just got in the way there for a bit, sorry dudes. I have not and will not give up on this story as I know exactly what I want to do with these characters it's just a matter of getting it all written, we'll get there! **

**A huge thank you to ****Black Raven 2539 for your reviews, they meant a lot! **

**Standard Disclaimer. **

Molly and Greg chatted as they strolled through the forest, keeping an eye out for danger as they tried to get to know each other better. Greg was nice, funny. He was in the first year in the police academy and hoped to become a Peace Keeper one day. As he told Molly his plans for the future Molly noticed the glint in his eye and his tone, which seemed to say he didn't think any of these plans would happen anymore, Greg wasn't saying it but he didn't think he'd make it out of these Games alive...

"Molly?" asked Greg taking the girl out of her daydreams.

"Huh?"

Greg grinned sheepishly. "I asked what you wanted to do after school?"

"Oh," said Molly and she looked down at the ground. "It's kind of morbid."

Greg chuckled and flashed Molly a toothy grin. "More morbid than the Hunger Games?"

Molly returned his smile. "Maybe a little less morbid."

Greg smiled at the ground and kicked up a few fallen leaves. "So what do you want to do then?"

"Well," she began searching for the right words. "I actually want to work in a hospital."

Greg raised an eyebrow. "Nothing morbid in that."

"As a pathologist."

"Oh," said Greg. "Well... that is a bit morbid alright."

Molly blushed.

"Let's just hope my body isn't your first post-mortem eh?" said Greg trying to make a joke.

Molly smiled weakly. "Yeah."

The pair walked in silence for another twenty minutes or so, the killings had died down completely. The cannons had not blared again even once and the night was quickly falling upon them.

"We should probably find somewhere to spend the night soo-" began Molly but Greg placed his arm in front of her stopping her from walking forward and shhhed her.

"Stop," he whispered. "I hear something."

Molly could hear her heart thumping in her chest and she tried to take even AND quiet breaths but her fear was getting the better of her. She heard a twig snap to her left and Greg and her turned to the noise. Greg stood in front of her to protect her. From behind the trees two figures appeared, a boy and girl. It was John and Mary.

Mary instantly went for her blade but John stopped her and studied the two people in front of him. This was the girl Sherlock had been with at the training area.

"You're Molly right?" asked John.

Molly sidestepped around Greg to get a better look at the boy. She remembered seeing him talk to Sherlock a few times during the training sessions.

"Yes," she said. "It's... John? Right?"

John nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I'm John, this is my girlfriend Mary."

Mary just cut John a look not exactly sure why she hadn't been allowed to kill the two strangers yet.

"This is Greg," said Molly gesturing towards Greg. Greg simply nodded; he was confused as to why Molly was wasting time introducing him to the people who were probably going to kill him...

"You're Sherlock's..." began John, not quite so sure how to finish what he was trying to say.

"Friend," said Molly finishing for him.

"Yes, friend," said John. The blond bit his lip and considered this for a moment. After Sherlock had saved his life he couldn't possibly kill Molly, he just couldn't no way... He had an idea, Mary was going to kill him for this but he didn't care.

"Would you like to be our allies?" he asked before he could give it a second thought.

"What?" asked Molly, Greg and Mary in unison.

John cleared his throat. "Would you like to become our allies?" he repeated.

Mary opened her mouth to say something but John silenced her.

"How do we know we can trust you?" asked Greg.

John grimaced. "You don't."

Greg grunted. "Then I think we're going to have to pass on your kind offer. Greg took Molly by the arm and went to lead her away but John called after them.

"Sherlock saved my life," he said. "I'm not going to kill his friend."

Molly stopped in her tracks and turned around quickly. "He saved your life?"

John nodded. "I won't hurt you," he said. "And neither will Mary. If it wasn't for Sherlock I'd be dead, I'm not about to kill his friend."

Greg and Molly exchanged a look. "Okay," then said Molly finally. "I believe you, we'll stick together for a few days."

John smiled. "Yeah," he said. "Great."

Molly smiled but she still seemed unsure about all this. "Maybe we should find somewhere to rest for the night?" she suggested.

John and Greg nodded. "Yeah come on then," said Greg leading the way but still being very vigilant of the two newcomers.

John moved forward to walk alongside Molly but Mary pulled him back.

"What did you do that for?" she snapped.

"I'm not going to kill Sherlock's friend not after he-

"Saved your life I get it," said Mary agitated. "You can't save them all John, only two of us are getting out of this."

John went to grab Mary's hand but she pulled away and stormed off after the others. John sighed. Mary could be a bit bitchy at times but she was right, he couldn't save everyone... But that sure as hell wasn't going to stop him trying, for now at least.

* * *

It was the sound of a cannon that woke Sherlock from his dreamless sleep; he jolted up and looked around himself quickly, taking in his surroundings. The sun was beginning to rise and the morning was upon them, he had survived his first night in the arena. The sleeping bodies of Sebastian and Golem lay a few feet away from him and Sherlock noticed slightly worryingly that Irene had curled up beside him whilst he was asleep and had her arm lying across his tummy.

"She's friendly," said Jim with a lopsided grin as he looked at Sherlock's reaction to Irene. "She doesn't bite," said Jim. "Well... she does actually."

Sherlock cut Jim a look before gently removing Irene's hand from his waist and standing up trying his best to avoid waking the sleeping girl.

"No point in being gentle with her Sherl," said Jim in a drawl as he sorted through some weapons quietly since Sherlock was now also awake he could relax slightly from his watch duties. "Gentle isn't a language she understands."

Sherlock blushed slightly at Jim's words, not used to these kinds of conversations. "The canon woke me up," he said ignoring Jim's words.

Jim simply nodded. "Another one bites the dust."

Sherlock grimaced. "Yeah," he said wearily hoping the cannon wasn't for Molly or John.

"I was going to wake you all in a few minutes anyway," said Jim packing away a few items into a backpack. "It's about time we got going."

Sherlock simply nodded, not sure as to what to say. He studied Jim as the other boy packed away his things. The boy hadn't tried to kill him yet so he took that as a good sign, maybe he could be trusted... Maybe he genuinely did want to live through these games with Sherlock by his side. However there was still a small voice in Sherlock's head that was telling him to pack a bag and run.

"If we don't hit too much trouble we should reach the top of the cliff and camp by the top of the waterfall before sunset," said Jim standing up and stretching. "Spend the night there and then pick these losers off tomorrow morning, what do you say?"

Sherlock looked around at the sleeping bodies of his 'partners' slightly nervous of having this conversation around them, if they were only pretending to be asleep, if they heard they were going to be betrayed they'd kill him in a nanosecond.

"Pfff," said Jim seemingly reading Sherlock's mind. "They can't hear you, they're out for the count."

Sherlock glanced nervously at the other tributes before nodded half-heartedly. "Yeah," he said in a small tone, he didn't care if it was the Hunger Games he still didn't feel comfortable betraying people, even if he knew it was their death or his. "Sounds like a plan."

Jim looked at the curly haired teen for a moment but said nothing. Jim had this ability of staring at you in a way that Sherlock swore the dark eyed boy could see directly into his thoughts, into your very soul, but he dismissed that thought off hand because that was impossible. Yet...

"I'm trusting you Sherlock," said Jim suddenly. Sherlock's eyes flashed back to the smaller boy. "I'm trusting you here, Sherl," continued Jim. "So don't let me down okay? Because if you let me down Sherlock, it'll be the last thing you ever do."

Jim's sudden sternness disappeared as quickly as it had risen and he flashed Sherlock a cheeky grin. "But you won't let me down will you Sherl?

Sherlock furrowed his brow at Jim's roller coaster moods but ignored it for now. "I won't let you down, Jim," he said but his words lacked conviction. Sherlock opened his mouth to say something else but he was interrupted as the other tributes began to wake up.

As Jim began to start conversation with Sebastian and Golem Sherlock took his opportunity to prepare himself for the day, he unpacked and repacked his bag and began to snack on an apple for breakfast figuring he may as well eat the perishable food before it went off. He went over the conversation he's had with Jim over and over. The boy could go from being this sweet charming guy to a psychopathic killer. He'd shown no remorse whatsoever for all the people he'd killed the previous day and most of the kids had not even been armed, at least Sherlock's kill had been attacking John...

"You make a good pillow, you know," said a voice from behind him. Sherlock turned to see Irene walking towards him.

Sherlock blushed and busied himself counting the amount of arrows he had in his quiver.

Irene sat down beside him and played absently with the strap on Sherlock backpack. "You're thinking of leaving aren't you?"

Sherlock arranged the quiver on his back so he could easily access the arrows and just looked at Irene. "Why would you say that?"

"I seen you kill that kid who was attacking that blond hottie from District 1 yesterday," whispered Irene so the others wouldn't hear. "For some reason I don't think you'd be so fast to put an arrow through someone's head if they were throttling Jim."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at this, he opened his mouth to say something but Irene cut over him.

"I won't say anything to him, don't worry," she stood up and put her hands on Sherlock's shoulder and leaned in towards him, her lips millimetres away from Sherlock's ear. "To be honest Sherl, I'd probably be the one throttling Jim, I don't trust him either."

Before Sherlock could say anything Irene pecked him on the cheek and turned to walk away from him. "Do you think he'd save you?" she asked before walking over to join the others.

Sherlock just watched her walk away from him and began to wonder if he'd dismissed Irene too quickly, maybe she wasn't just a silly girl after all, and was she telling the truth about not trusting Jim? Sherlock sighed, he was going to have to talk to her again later.

"Hey Holmesy," said Sebastian throwing a bag over his shoulder. "You coming, or what?"

Sherlock sighed once more and picked up his things balancing them carefully before joining the others. Irene gave him a small smile as he caught up with them. Sherlock wasn't sure about Jim but perhaps he could trust at least one tribute from District 4.

**More to come soon, planning something big! **


	12. Chapter 12

**Okay, it's been... a while. I actually had this story pretty much entirely written and then my laptop crashed and I lost everything and then uni started again and I was swamped down with work and I didn't have the time to re-write everything but I'm getting back on track now and I'm writing again so stay with me we'll get there. **

**A lot has changed since I started this story, when I first wrote this story Sherlolly was my OTP and now I am Johnlock af lmao. I'm not sure about including anything Johnlock in this story however so let me know if you'd like Johnlock because I can work it in, if you want it. I have left you waiting for ages so I'll let you get back into the story now. **

**I'll try not to disappear again.**

**Disclaimer: Still not mine. **

The cannon that woke Sherlock also woke Molly, she jumped up quickly and scanned the forest floor. Greg was sitting up beside her on watch and John and Mary were having a small breakfast of dried fruit. Molly sighed out of relief that the cannon had not been for one of her companions. She instantly made a wish that the cannon wasn't Sherlock's either.

"Sleeping beauty finally wakes up," said Greg jollily handing Molly a small piece of bread. "Here."

Molly just smiled simply and tore a bit of the crust from the bread and began to chew on it. "So what do you think we should do today?"

Mary and John exchanged a look. "We were thinking we should head back towards the Cornucopia," said John.

Greg raised an eyebrow at this. "Why?"

"We need supplies," said Mary simply returning what was left of the dried fruit to her bag.

Molly and Greg exchanged a look. "Don't you think it's a bit dangerous to head back to the Cornucopia?" Molly asked.

"It's the Hunger Games," said John. "Everywhere is dangerous."

"We need to backtrack and get some foodstuff and maybe medical supplies and a few weapons if there's some left," said Mary.

Molly was still a bit unsure about all this, heading back towards the Cornucopia just seemed too dangerous but then again if she just stayed here eventually other tributes would stumble upon her. It was probably best just to follow Mary and John for now. Besides there was a small voice in her head telling her if she went back to the Cornucopia she might find Sherlock again.

"Okay," she said simply.

Greg still looked unsure but he was outnumbered so he simply nodded in agreement and left it at that. "Should we go then?" he asked as he began to pack some of his stuff away.

John nodded. "We're a few hours away from the Cornucopia now, so we should make a move soon."

Molly stretched and stood up packing her sleeping things away and retying up her hair before throwing her bag over her back. She didn't have much with her so packing didn't take long.

A few minutes later they were all ready to leave and began to walk in silence through the woods. The four teens were still weary around each other, they still didn't trust each other and each one of them was very aware that all four of them would not survive the Games. They were all aware that no matter what happened the four of them wouldn't be returning home and no matter how close they may get over the next few weeks their own mortality would always be in the way of them forming a proper friendship.

The teens walked for about a half an hour without any problems but as mid-morning approached Molly began feeling uneasy. It was too quiet. She knew a lot of tributes had died already but there were still a lot of people in the Arena and the whole area was too silent. She was scared.

Greg seemed to sense her unease. "It's a bit ummm," he began uncertainly. "Quiet, don't you think?"

John nodded. "I was thinking that myself," he admitted. "I don't like it."

Suddenly there was a sharp swooshing sound and before she could do anything Molly felt a sudden pressure on her back she couldn't help but scream. She turned to find a dagger sticking out of the fabric on her backpack. Someone had thrown a knife at her.

Greg quickly grabbed her by the arm and pulled her behind him protecting her from a further onslaught of weaponry.

Mary raced forward and pulled the knife from Molly's bag and scanned the trees for a moment before flinging it towards a mass of branches.

Molly thought Mary was crazy, how did she think she could possibly hit someone at this dis-

There was a loud gasp from the trees and a young girl no more than 14 fell from the tree to a pile on the ground. She was clutching her tummy but even from here Molly could see the blood seeping through her fingers. Molly knew the girl didn't stand a chance. Her wound was too deep; she'd bleed out in a few minutes. Mary however wasn't done yet.

Mary stalked over to the fallen girl and leaned over her. "Were you working alone?" she asked.

The girl simply whimpered in response.

Mary sighed angrily and began to twist the knife in the girl's abdomen.

"You're dying, but there's still time to hurt you," said Mary coldly. She turned the blade further in the girl's abdomen, "Were. You. Working. Alone?" she said again, each word emphasised by a twist of the knife.

"I'M ALONE! ALONE," cried the girl.

"Good," said Mary simply pulling the knife from the girl's stomach and leaving her to bleed out. It wouldn't be long now.

Mary pushed past Molly and Greg and took John's hand in her own. "Let's go," she said.

Greg looked at the dying girl on the ground and back at Mary. The blonde was brutal. She would stop at nothing to get what she wants and then leave her prey alone to die.

Greg fumbled with the hilt on his spear before stepping forward.

"Greg?" asked Molly.

"I can't let her suffer," said Greg as he unsheathed his weapon and looked down at the dying girl at his feet. She was in pain, she was in a lot of pain and she didn't have a chance of survival. There was no need to let her suffer. Greg took a deep breath before bring his spear down hard on the girl's skull. Her death was instantaneous.

The cannon sounded.

Greg recovered his spear and made his way to walk back to the group.

"You couldn't just leave her, no?" asked Mary with a sneer.

"She was in pain," said Greg.

"Life is pain," said Mary simply as she stormed forward hand still in John's and forcing her boyfriend to run along with him. John looked back and gave Greg a 'sorry' look.

Greg sighed heavily and just watched as John and Mary left them behind. "I couldn't let her suffer," he said to Molly. "I know it's the Games, but I couldn't let her die like that."

Molly simply nodded not knowing what to say. She didn't like the idea of the girl suffering but she wasn't sure if she could have killed her either.

"Come on let's go," she said offering her hand to Greg to hold, thinking he might need the comfort.

Greg simply smiled and took her hand and they walked onwards to joining Mary and John.

**Really short I know, I'm still getting back into this fic and I will not give up on it! :) More soon!**


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